Denim Dreams
by darylsdiva1
Summary: Daryl is a rancher and also a Bull rider on the professional rodeo circuit. Carol is a PR person running the campaign for a new line of jean clothing called "Denim Dreams," for which she's been ordered to sign him up as spokesman, but their troubled past together could complicate matters...
1. Chapter 1

_It had to be done._

Denim Dreams

"They all have to wear the leather chaps. To protect their legs in the chute."

"I know that."

"Then you're just staring at his ass?"

"No!" Carol said, scowling at her friend and trying not to blush, but with her pale freckled skin that was a losing battle.

"Oh—my bad—must be your latent denim fetish then." Lori teased.

"You know it's my _job_ , Lori." Carol chided, "I have to see if the logo on the jeans is visible from the stands with the chaps on."

"I know I should be glad your PR firm got the contract for this, but why of all the bull riders on the PRCA circuit did they have to pick Daryl Dixon for their spokesperson? The man's monosyllabic at the best of times and wildly profane the rest."

"They wanted rugged _real_ cowboys for the new Denim Dreams campaign." Carol said. The Dixon ranch was one of the largest in Wyoming and in his time off from the Professional Rodeo Circuit of America he helped his older brother Merle run the spread.

"Well, he's certainly rugged... but risking your life by gettin' up on top of a two thousand pound bull that could kick and stomp the shit out of you every week isn't like the smartest way to make a living."

"Just because your husband is a team roper doesn't mean that's the only way to rodeo."

"Chasing down and then heading and heeling a steer with your partner is a _much_ _smarter_ way to rodeo, sweetie." Lori grinned with an air of superiority, "Rick and Shane are sitting at third in the standings after the preliminary round—but unless Daryl nails this ride he's out of the money."

Carol winced a little at the mention of money. That was the only way she'd been able to get Dixon to sign on the dotted line as the face and broad shoulders, and cute little butt and those sexy long legs of the advertising campaign her fledgling PR firm, Walker Inc., had won from Saviors Western Wear, one of the largest retailers for the cowboy and cowgirl set.

A former top three national finisher, Daryl had never achieved his ultimate goal: the national championship itself. After his injury in the ring six months ago he'd been out of the action for five months while he did rehab and he needed money if he wanted to keep competing. Since his comeback he'd been on fire, finishing first in three consecutive PRCA rodeos, bringing him to the attention of the management of SWW.

As low man on the totem pole at her firm, she'd been tasked to follow the circuit and convince him to become part of the Denim Dreams Team. The fact that she was also from the same home town as Dixon and had gone to elementary school with him before her parents split up and she and her mother moved away had never come up.

She'd been delighted to find more of the old friends from her childhood were also on the rodeo circuit. Lori Martin had married Rick Grimes and he roped steers with his best friend, Shane Walsh. They'd invited her out for a drink at the street dance put on by the local rodeo board on the first night she'd arrived and she'd put aside her task to just have some fun reminiscing with people she hadn't seen since she was twelve.

"I don't know as I'd have recognized you if Lori hadn't told me who you were—you filled out damned nice, Caroline Mason." Shane had said, admiringly looking her up and down, with a definite note of flirtation in his tone.

"I told you, it's _Carol_ now, Shane. Carol Pelletier." Lori admonished him.

"Oh, now don't break my heart and tell me you're married, sugar!" Shane said, dramatically holding his hand to his heart and pretending to stumble.

"Divorced, so your heart is safe." Carol laughed at his overt antics.

"Then you gotta dance with me, darlin' and tell me all about the idiot who was fool enough to let you get away." Shane said, reaching for her hand.

"We shouldn't leave Lori alone..." Carol said, looking down at the hand he offered with a frown.

"I'm only six months pregnant, not nine. Not about to pop." Lori said, making a shooing motion, "Rick will be back with our drinks in a minute. You go on now, have some fun and kick up your heels with a handsome cowboy, hon."

"Well, if you don't mind..." Carol said, her mouth twisting with indecision, but Shane was already dragging her out onto the dance floor for a lively two step.

"So who's that at your table, Grimes? She with Walsh?" Daryl asked, pushing his black Stetson back off his face so he could take a better look. He and Rick Grimes stood waiting for their drinks at the overcrowded bar across the way from the picnic tables that had been set up at the edge of the dance floor.

Rick turned around so he could see who Dixon was talking about.

"The red head?" Old friend of Lori's, Carol Pelletier."

"She with Walsh?" Daryl asked again in his low gruff sounding voice, never taking his eyes off of Carol.

"We both know she ain't." Rick said dryly. "Why? You interested?"

"Maybe." Daryl said, working hard to keep his stoic mask in place. There was something so damn familiar about the woman it was making him itchy.

"She ain't no buckle bunny, Dixon." Rick's tone turned warning. The Dixon brothers had quite a reputation on the rodeo circuit of one and done hi-jinks with willing women looking to bag a bull rider.

"Didn't think she was." Daryl said mildly, turning back to the bar and exchanging the ten he held for two long neck bottles.

"You askin' about Carol and you already got a woman on the string?" Rick asked as he motioned towards the two bottles Daryl held.

"Maybe I'm just thirsty." Daryl shot back, taking a long drink out of first one and then the other bottle.

"Did you just put your fuckin' mouth on _my_ beer?" a pissed off voice sounded from behind Daryl.

"Shut the fuck up Merle, your mouth's been lots worse places." Daryl said laconically, but wiped his shirt sleeve across the top of the bottle he handed to his brother.

"Came to see where the hell you been—didn't come all this way to sit by myself while you stand around jawin' with a lowly roper." Merle grabbed the beer and chugged it until he noticed where Daryl's gaze was directed.

"Nice to see you too, Merle." Rick said dryly.

"Is that what it is then? You on a pussy hunt?" Merle asked Daryl, ignoring Rick completely.

Just then Shane and Carol rose from the table and moved to the dance floor to join in the two-step. Shane was a good dancer, but Carol was spectacular. Her knee length skirt rose and swirled around her legs in the turns, her high heels showing off her toned calves, her lightly tanned arms in the sleeveless floral blouse gracefully moving with the rhythm as she held onto Walsh's shoulder and hand.

"Shut the fuck up, Merle." Daryl said and handed him the other beer.

Before Merle could protest Daryl was striding across the floor and tapping Shane on the shoulder from behind. As Shane looked back to see who was cutting in, Carol lifted her head to look over his shoulder and her blue eyes met Daryl's and the shock of recognition hit them both at the same time.

" _It is you... Caro..."_ Daryl murmured, and his face broke into an amazed smile.

"Dix." Carol said, smiling and fighting against the tears that threatened.

Shane stopped dancing and looked back and forth between the two.

"So... safe to say you two remember each other?" Walsh asked with a slow grin.

"Been a long while." Daryl said, his eyes never leaving her face, his rough voice gentler than Shane had ever heard it.

"I moved away." Carol said, still staring at Daryl and biting her lower lip.

Knowing when he was licked, Shane released his hold on Carol and graciously handed her off to Daryl.

"Guess you got some catchin' up to do." Shane drawled, "I'll just go check on Lori."

Neither Carol of Daryl really noticed he left.

"You want to sit or keep dancin'?" Daryl asked her, his hand brushing lightly over hers, but not taking it.

"I think I need some air." Carol said and swallowed hard.

"We're already outside, sweetheart." Daryl gave a rumbling chuckle.

Her momentary trance broken, Carol looked up at the starry sky above them and laughed, making Daryl smile as well.

"Then let's dance." Carol said, the remnants of laughter still on her face as a small smile.

Daryl took her right hand in his left and slid his right around her side to the small of her back while she perched her left hand delicately on his shoulder. Just as they started the two-step though, the music changed to the Trisha Yearwood/Garth Brooks version of the Bob Dylan classic, "Make you feel my Love."

Carol's steps faltered and she tripped, but Daryl held her up by pulling her closer. It became more an embrace than dance posture. She rested her head against his strong shoulder. He pulled their upraised arms in closer to their bodies and rested the side of his chin against the soft curls at the crown of her head.

" _Why'd you go?"_ he asked softly, his voice breaking slightly as he said it.

"I had to. My mom had already loaded the car and U-Haul while I was at school. I didn't even get to set foot in the house—she was waiting for the bus and made me get in the car and we left." Carol explained, "When we got to Chicago she went straight to the house of the man... the man she'd left my father for."

"You never came back... never called or wrote... it was like you fell off the face of the earth."

Carol tightened her grip on his shoulder. He sounded so _hurt._

"My mother didn't want my dad to find us so she wouldn't let me contact anyone from Wyoming. She had a restraining order and the court denied him visitation. When she married Brian we took his last name—she made me go by Lainey at school—I went back to Caroline after..." she stopped and took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"After your father died?" Darol finished for her.

Carol nodded.

"Heard about it." He huffed out a breath. "Seemed fittin'. Sorta wished I'd helped the bastard along."

Carol lifted her head and looked up at him in surprise.

"What he done, Caro, he deserved what he got." Daryl ground out.

"And your dad?" she asked, wanting to know if he was free now too.

"In a retirement home—Alzheimer's—asshole don't remember a god damn thing." Daryl seethed.

Carol felt him trembling, this time in suppressed anger and frustration, not in fear as he'd done when they'd been kids, the night they'd discovered just how much they had in common.

"There you are Ms. Pelletier! Aren't you the fast worker—I see you have our last cowboy already charmed and hopefully lassoed?" a tall rangy looking man in double denim wearing a huge silver buckle, expensive silver tipped boots and a black Stetson similar to Daryl's, but with a tooled leather and silver barbwire patterned hat band.

"Mr. Negan, I didn't know you'd be here tonight." Carol said, releasing her hold on Daryl and stepping back to put some space between them.

Daryl reluctantly released her and squinted over at the new comer.

"Daryl, I'd like you to meet Jameson Negan, CEO of Saviors Western Wear. Mr. Negan, this is—"

"Daryl fucking Dixon, bad boy bull rider of the PRCA." Negan said with admiration, shaking Daryl's hand firmly. "So has the lovely Carol succeeded in talking you into coming to work for me yet?"

Daryl looked over at Carol in confusion and she blushed. This wasn't how she wanted this to go.

"We were actually just doing some catching up, Mr. Negan." She said as confidently as she could, "Daryl and I went to school together until we were about twelve."

"You don't say! Now ain't _that_ a coincidence. That boss a' yours sure knows what she's doing doesn't she?" Negan chuckled, "Sending you out here to cozy up to an old friend who just happens to be the man we want as the new face of SWW."

"Is that right?" Daryl turned his narrow eyed gaze to Carol.

"No, it is not. Ms. Walker had no idea I was acquainted with Daryl."Carol said evenly, striving for a professional tone.

"Jameson! I need you!" a spoiled sounding feminine voice whined from the left and they all turned to look at a pouting but lovely brunette in jeans so tight Carol wasn't sure how the girl was breathing. Her western cut shirt in pristine white was unsnapped to show off tanned cleavage and she wore enough silver—earrings, necklace, belt and boot tips and heels—to blind the room.

"Comin' sugar! Excuse me, Carol, Daryl. The missus calls." he held out his hand to Daryl. "I hope we'll be able to do business, Dixon." The men shook and then Negan made a bee line for his little bombshell wife.

"You work for SWW?" Daryl asked.

"The company contracted with our firm to do their new Denim Dreams publicity campaign." Carol said. "I was going to contact you tomorrow about setting up an appointment to discuss the possibility of signing you on as a brand spokesperson."

"So you weren't looking for me here tonight?" Daryl asked skeptically.

"No. I had no idea you'd be here." Carol said, frowning at him, "I came at the last minute invitation of the Grimes when I ran into to Lori at my hotel."

"As a date for Shane?" Daryl asked, and his face took on a stubborn mulish look.

"No." Carol said, getting a little pissed off. Who did he think he was asking about her love life?

"Good." Daryl said, "Because I don't think their set up extends that far."

"Set up?"

"Let's get a drink." Daryl said, postponing continuing the discussion until they had drinks in hand and found a relatively quiet corner where they could sit and observe without being over heard.

"So?" Carol asked.

"Rick n' Shane?" Daryl drawled, "Their partnership extends beyond the arena, Caro. They share _everything._ "

"What? No! Rick and Lori are married! Expecting a child..." Carol said, looking over at Lori, sitting at the picnic table with Shane beside her while Rick sat on the other side. They were laughing and talking, Rick holding Lori's hand across the table.

"Look _closer_." Daryl said.

Carol's eyes roamed over the trio, realizing that while Lori held onto Rick's hand above the table, under it she had just as strong a hold on Shane's.

"State only recognizes marriage between one man and one woman so Rick and Lori got hitched when she got pregnant, but the ring Lori wears on her right hand is the same one Shane wears on his. People on the circuit are pretty conservative so they don't advertise the fact that they're all together."

"So how did _you_ know?" Carol asked.

"Went to school with all three of them since we were in kindergarten." Daryl said, "Figured it out at a party the year after we all graduated from high school."

Looking for a place to have some alone time with his date Daryl had snuck out to the barn of the farm where the party was being held to check out the hay mow, but it was already occupied. He'd congratulated himself on finding the free live threesome porn until he recognized the participants. Shocked, he went back inside only to find his date making out with some other dude on the couch in front of everyone.

It was quite a night.

Carol blushed and her scandalized facial expressions were so cute Daryl almost forgot he was a bit pissed off at her.

"So what would I have to do to be a spokes model?" he said, surprising her with the change of subject.

"Denim Dreams is a new line of jean wear for SWW." Carol said, relieved to be launching into her professional pitch demeanor, "It's made to be durable enough for ranch work but still look stylish enough to wear to get your boot scootin' boogie on. The idea is to showcase the hard working and talented men and women who live the rodeo and ranching life. You'll be expected to wear the brand exclusively and be photographed doing so at work and in your leisure time. There will also be photo shoots for magazine, billboard and web ads solo and with the rest of the Denim Dreams Team."

"Who else has signed on?"

"Maggie Rhee..." Carol told him.

"The barrel racer? She's good... but her horse has a stupid name..."

"Buttons is world class Daryl, even if he was named by a three year old." Carol chided him.

"That's right—she has a kid. Her husband's on the circuit too, isn't he? Glenn, right?" Daryl asked.

"Yes, team roping, and he's another member of the Team along with his partner, Morgan Jones. The final member is Paul Rovia."

"Jesus? Son of a bitch—I'm the token CIS white guy, ain't I?" Daryl asked with a chuckle. Jones was African American and Rovia, known as Jesus because of the beard and long locked look he affected, was gay and out, a rarity in the PRCA.

"Representation is important." Carol said. It was one of the ways her boss planned to catch a different market niche with this campaign.

"I ain't in this to make no social statements, Caro. Bottom line is I need in influx of cash to keep me competitive. How much are we talking about here?"

"When you sign, SWW will cover all of your costs for the next year. Entry fees, hotel or hook up costs if you prefer a motor home, which they will provide, transportation for your livestock, you and a significant other to all events and a stipend for food, clothing and other incidentals."

"Holy shit." Daryl said, finally looking impressed. Then his eyes narrowed, "What if I suck?"

"You can only be fired for cause: do anything that puts the brand in a negative light and you can be terminated. Short of that, win or lose? You still get a year on SWW's dime." Carol explained.

"Can I have my lawyer look over the contract?" Daryl asked.

"I was going to suggest you bring them to our meeting." Carol nodded.

"When you called me tomorrow?"

Carol nodded again.

"So you'll be my boss?" he asked, frowning slightly.

"Technically no." Carol said slowly, "I'm an employee of Walker Inc., not WCC, but I will be joining the team on the circuit to help facilitate the photo shoots and other publicity ops."

"Good." Daryl grinned, looking happy and then he tipped back his beer to finish it off and held out his hand to help her stand. "If it all checks out with the lawyer tomorrow, I think we have a deal."

"Does eight work for you?" Carol said looking down at her watch and frowning, it was past midnight—how had that happened?

"Got Merle stayin' over—sharin' a hotel room." Daryl frowned, "Doubt he'll wind down until the early hours and... ah _shit_."

Carol followed his gaze line and saw Merle playing tonsil hockey with one buxom blonde buckle bunny and groping the ass of a redhead while still standing at the bar. Sensing eyes on him he reared back from the suction he'd been applying to the blonde's lips and waved at Daryl, pointing at the second girl and grinning slyly.

Merle had taken it upon himself to get them _both_ laid tonight like he used to in the old days when they were both still on the circuit and Daryl had been a skinny, shy, wet behind the ears kid.

"Oh. Um... well... we could meet in the afternoon then." Carol said, eyes wide and clearly embarrassed.

"Stay here. I'll be right back." Daryl rumbled, tossing his beer bottle into a recycling bin about ten feet away with a perfect swish. He stopped and looked back at her, saying sternly, "I mean it, _don't go_."

"Okay." Carol said, her eyes wide again.

She watched as Daryl went to the bar and confronted his brother, expecting a fight of some sort, but other than a curious glance in her direction and a big grin and brotherly slap on the back, Merle seemed to handle whatever Daryl had told him well.

"What about your brother and your... date?" Carol asked when Daryl returned.

"Turns out they're both _his_ dates." Daryl shrugged, put an arm around her shoulders and then added smoothly, "Guess I'll need to find another hotel room for tonight."

Carol's eye brows went up and she tilted her head up at him.

"I didn't mean _yours_ , Caro." Daryl chuckled, and started to walk. "I'm gonna walk you to your car, all gentleman like, get a hug goodnight and call you in the morning to set the meeting after I see when my lawyer is able to Skype in."

"Oh." was all Carol could think to say, but she must've let some of her unexpected disappointment come out in the single syllable.

When they reached her car, true to his word Daryl wrapped her in his arms for a luxurious tight full body hug.

"I take you to bed tonight and it'd be hot, but that ain't what I'm after here," Daryl said, nuzzling in and kissing her shoulder, "I've been missin' you for the last twenty years, dream girl, wondering how you were, wondering if you could be as sweet and special as I remembered."

" _Dix..."_ Carol protested. It was too much—she was no one's dream girl—she'd disappoint him, just as she had her husband.

"Shush now. We got a whole year, so I'm goin' for the slow burn here, sweetheart." Daryl said, giving her one last squeeze before releasing her. "See you tomorrow, Caro."

Then he stood and waited while she unlocked her car and got in. She looked in her rear view mirror and saw that he was still standing there, hands in his pockets, as she drove away.

Spoiler Alert: The rodeo life seemed to fit well with the cover of the book Carol is seen reading in 7.10, titled Denim Dreams, which has cowboy giving a woman a piggyback ride on the cover. (Edited to reflect new information, 2/22/17)

Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2: Lemonade

_Carol starts to experience rodeo life on the circuit, but someone from Daryl's past causes her to wonder if he has been up front with her about his intentions._

* * *

Lemonade

As Daryl watched the last woman he'd ever expected to see tonight drive away, something that Rick had said when they'd spoken earlier at the bar made him pull out his cell and press the third number on his speed dial.

"Hey 'Sita, sorry to call so late." he paused as she replied and then he chuckled, "Yeah well, now I'm _doubly_ sorry." Another pause and he continued, "You workin' the Adams Valley rodeo in two days?" another shorter pause, "Well, why don't you come find me when you get a free minute." He chuckled again, "Yeah, it'll be good to see you too. Take care now."

He thumbed off the phone and then headed for his truck, hoping there was a free room at the motel where he'd planned to stay with Merle, one of only two in this small town, so he didn't have to sleep in the back seat of the king cab like the old days when they'd been rodeoing on a shoe string. He was getting too old and beat up for that shit.

He flexed his left knee and then his elbow on the same side, testing the ache in them and finding them manageable. The two beers he'd had tonight didn't preclude him taking some of the prescription pain relievers he still had from his last bad spill off a mean son of a bitch of a bull half a year ago, but he'd almost gotten himself completely weaned off the stuff and tried to avoid taking any if he could. He'd grab a couple of bags of ice out of the motel lobby machine to get him through the night.

Was Caro staying at the same motel? He hadn't asked on purpose—too much temptation—and hoped like hell she hadn't noticed the hard on simply hugging her had given him. She still had that same delicate beauty that had first captivated him as a boy, the same vulnerability, but she was also a polished professional and hadn't taken any of the condescending shit that the CEO of SWW had tried to put on her. He knew she was strong, (had watched her stand up to his _daddy_ for Christ's sake!) and he was definitely strongly sexually attracted to the beautiful woman his best friend had grown up to be.

A casual hook up was one thing—hell, he could go back inside and walk back out with any number of buckle bunnies or local gals looking to ride a bull rider for a night—but his Caro was something special. He just needed to tie up a loose string before they headed out onto the blacktop so he had a clear conscience before pursuing her.

Daryl never thought he'd have a second chance at the first girl he'd ever loved. Losing her had truly broken his heart and made what he'd suffered after that so much harder to endure. He knew she had her own scars... maybe they could work on healing them together, just as their friendship all those years ago had started to do for them.

Yep, he just had to tie up that one loose string...

* * *

Adams Valley Rodeo, two days later

"Who's that woman talking to Daryl?" Carol asked Lori, watching him after he finished his ride. He'd had a good one, making the eight second time, and they were waiting for his score. A pretty Hispanic woman in an EMT uniform had just given Daryl a big hug and now they stood talking with their arms draped loosely around each other.

The day after the street dance they'd met for lunch and after he'd had his lawyer vet the contract, he'd signed on, so this was the first PRCA event that he was officially under the sponsorship of SWW. Carol was learning the finer points of all of the events the Team competed in by spending time in the stands with Lori and the other girlfriends and spouses of the competitors.

"He hasn't mentioned her to you?" Lori asked, looking over at Daryl and frowning hard.

"No." Carol said with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Why hadn't she expected he would have someone? Just because they'd had a pretty emotional reunion and he'd spouted a smooth line about taking his time with her, she'd probably been stupid to assume he meant anything exclusive. They would be traveling together and she was convenient. For all she knew he had a woman in every town on the circuit.

"Who is she?" Carol asked again, her breath speeding up as Daryl's score was about to be announced and he turned to look at the leader board, but kept his arm around the woman's shoulder.

"It's not my place to say, hon—you need to talk to Daryl about it." Lori said with a sigh, her mouth turned down in displeasure.

When Daryl's score of 90 put him at the top of the leader board he did a fist pump and looked up towards the stands as if he was searching for someone, but the woman at his side pulled him down for a thorough congratulatory kiss that almost knocked his hat off and Carol had enough.

"I'm going for a lemonade, can I bring you something, Lori?" she asked stiffly as she stood, keeping her eyes on her friend and avoiding looking towards the arena.

"Talk to him, Carol." Lori advised gently.

"I'll bring you a lemonade." Carol said, and fled down the steps.

* * *

Feeling like a fool, Carol ran and hid in the ladies room under the grandstand, holding a cold wet paper towel over her face that she knew was red from crying. For God's sake she wasn't a silly sixth grader any more. Daryl was a thirty-two year old drop dead gorgeous red blooded American cowboy. Did she expect him to be the same innocent kid she'd known? No, of course not. But she was disappointed that it appeared he was a _player_.

She hid out there for what she hoped was long enough and then went to the concession stand and bought two fresh squeezed lemonades for her and Lori to help keep them hydrated in the heat of the midday. Just as she turned to walk away from the stand two young boys smashed into her and the entire contents of the sugared sticky drinks went all down the front of her. The boys took off like a bat out of hell when they realized what they'd done and Carol was left still holding the now the empty cups.

"Shit." She muttered, looking up at the vendor, who was kind enough to tell her that he'd give her two more, but she wanted to go change first and wash off the sticky, so he took the cups back and gave her two chits to redeem for new ones when she came back. She'd stashed her go bag in the SWW motor home that Daryl was taking over after the competition today, so she headed there, hoping he'd stuck around the arena to watch Glenn's ride after his and it would be empty.

No such luck. She arrived at the big toy just in time to see Daryl heading into it with the woman he'd been kissing ringside. Carol stood outside for about five minutes trying to decide what to do. She absently plucked at her blouse which was already starting to dry stuck to her stomach and decided to put on her big girl panties and march up the steps to knock on the door, hoping she caught them before they'd started shedding their clothing.

"Come back later, I'm busy." Daryl called out tersely from within the motor home.

"I can't –my clothes are in there and I had an accident and need to change—just hand me my go-bag that's in the hall closet." Carol said, desperately trying for a decisive yet nonchalant tone.

The door was flung open and thankfully a fully dressed but for his hat Daryl was looking down at her in concern.

"What happened?" he asked, looking her up and down, "You're all wet." He frowned and sniffed at her, "And you smell like lemon Pledge."

"More Beyoncé, less dusting spray." Carol said dryly. "Please just hand me my bag and I can go change clothes in the restroom under the stands."

He looked torn, glancing back into the camper and frowning and then looking back at her.

"Hold on, I'll get it for you."

The closet was all the way in the back of the motorhome in the big bedroom that took up the whole width of that end and while he was gone the brunette sauntered over to the open door to say hello.

"Daryl tells me you're the one in charge of this circus he's got himself involved in." she said with a smile, but her narrowed eyes were looking Carol up and down and clearly she wasn't impressed.

"Yes, I'm here as PR rep for the Denim Dreams campaign." Carol said, falling back behind her professional shield for dealing with difficult people. She held out her hand, forgetting that it was sticky with sugary lemonade. "Carol Pelletier, nice to meet you."

The woman made a sour face as she stared down at Carol's hand and so Carol dropped hers.

"And you are?" Carol asked, striving for a friendly tone. If this woman was going to be Daryl's plus one in the motorhome, she'd better get used to her.

"I'm Rosita, Rosita _Dixon_." The woman said with a triumphant gleam in her eyes. "Daryl's _wife_."

Carol took a step back, nearly falling off the step. She would have if Daryl hadn't returned at just that moment and dropping the duffle, he pushed past Rosita, snagged Carol's arm and pulled her forward into the motorhome through the open door.

" _Ex_ -wife." Daryl said, his voice annoyed, bordering on angry. "Just 'coz you're pissed at me, don't be such a bitch, 'Sita." Then he looked at Carol and gently asked her if she was okay.

"I need to get back to work." Rosita said, sounding bored. Ignoring Carol she put her hand on Daryl's other forearm and smiled up at him, "I'll see you later, D."

" _No_ , you _won't_ , I meant what I said." Daryl said, releasing Carol so he could remove Rosita's hand from his arm.

"Don't lose my number, darlin'." Rosita said, patting the phone in his breast pocket lingeringly, "You'll get bored with _that_ mousey thing soon, D. and then you'll come back. You always do." Then she let her hand trail down his chest and over his abs to run an index finger around the rim of his big silver belt buckle, forcing him to grab her wrist to stop her.

"You're just embarrassing yourself now, 'Sita." Daryl said and he took out his phone and one handed, while both Carol and Rosita watched, he pulled up her entry in his contacts and deleted it.

" _Asshole."_ Rosita bit out angrily, pulling her wrist out of his grip and then leveled her gaze on Carol, "He's a fantastic fuck, but he's _fucked_ _up_ , you know. All those daddy issues—"

"Just get out." Daryl cut her off, sounding more tired and sad than angry.

With one last look at the both of them Rosita made a disgusted snorting noise and flew out the door and down the steps.

"Well, that was just _loads_ of fun." Daryl grunted, pushing his dirty sweaty hair back off his forehead with a weary hand.

Carol didn't respond and bent to pick up the duffle with her clothes in it and started out the door.

"Where you goin'?" he frowned.

"To get cleaned up." She told him, clutching the bag in one hand while the other held onto the door frame. "I guess I can use the shower in the Rhee's rig. The nanny's in there with Hershel and they said I could hang out there in the AC any time."

"You can hang out here." Daryl said, still frowning. "I got a nice big shower too."

"Which you look like you could use right about now. You look like shit on a cracker, _Daryl_." Carol said primly, taking in his dusty dirty sweaty clothes clinging to his broad chest, and wait, was that? _Eww_. Yep. Definitely cow shit on his chaps—or was that _bull_ shit? Her train of thought made her giggle and he looked at her like he was worried she'd had heat stroke.

" _Daryl?"_ he blustered back at her. She only called him that when she was mad so he went on the offensive. "You're the one looks _ridiculous_. Like you're off to teach Sunday school or somethin'. Don't you got no cowgirl clothes?"

"You don't like my dress?" Carol looked down at her pale pink floral sundress and sandals. She'd dressed for the heat, but had noticed that most of the other women in the stands wore boots, jeans and short sleeved or sleeveless western cut cotton blouses or t-shirts with country or rock band logos on them.

"I like it just fine—looks real pretty on you—probably better when it's not all lemon sticky, but it ain't real practical around the horses and such. One of them stomps your foot in them dainty shoes and you'll be out of commission for weeks with a broken foot."

"I don't fit in." she realized with dismay. Wasn't that one of the first rules of good PR? Understand your client and your audience?

"Ought to get your SWW CEO to hook you up with some stuff out of their catalogue so you look the part; you're gonna be following the black top with us for a year." Daryl said, warming to his point. "Ask Lori n' Maggie—bet they'll be glad to help."

"I'm such an idiot." Carol said, stepping back so she was standing in the doorway, the light streaming in behind her.

"You ain't –you're just..." Daryl began, then he blushed and looked down at his feet, suddenly flustered.

"I'm what?" Carol pressed.

"Uh—with your dress all wet and the sun comin' in like that—I can kinda see right through it." he mumbled, gesturing at her without looking at her.

"Oh god." Carol stepped away from the door and pulled the duffle to her chest trying to hide behind it and practically ran to his bathroom.

* * *

When she came back out twenty minutes later, after showering and changing into what she now knew were her wildly impractical white capris and a sleeveless eyelet lace blouse, the only other clothes not back at her hotel room, Carol was surprised to find Daryl sitting broodingly at the small dinette table reading something on an I-Pad and taking notes in a spiral binder.

He'd taken off his chaps, jeans and chambray shirt and now wore a white wife beater and low riding sweats. His pale feet were bare, boots and socks under the table. He must've washed his face, hands and arms in the kitchenette sink because they looked cleaner, though his shaggy hair bore evidence of his time in the pens and arena today—he had a bad case of hat hair. He didn't appear to have a farmer tan, his collar bones in the low shirt were as dark as his bronzed arms. She stared as he stretched them above his head and twisted his neck to pop it as well, trying to get comfortable. To top it all off? He was wearing sexy smart guy horn rimmed glasses.

Carol literally started salivating.

"Busy?" she asked, swallowing hard, trying for nonchalant, setting down the duffle with her sticky clothes by the now closed door. She used one of the stretchies around her wrist to pull her damp hair up into a messy bun, but plenty of loose curls escaped and corkscrewed around her face.

"Home work." he said. "Takin' an accounting class on line from UW. Try and fit in the work between times or at night. Thought it'd help us manage the ranch books better if I knew what our damn accountant was talkin' about."

"Oh." she said, finding herself proud of him for continuing his education.

"Lori stopped by to check on you a little bit ago, she said to stop over if you need to talk." Daryl said, closing the notebook and powering down the device. Then he pulled off the sexy glasses and tossed them onto the table and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"I was supposed to be bringing her the lemonade." Carol said with regret.

"She left you one in the fridge," Daryl pointed at the almost full size built in refrigerator.

Carol went to retrieve the drink.

"I didn't know you saw me n' 'Sita down by the fence after my ride." Daryl said quietly when Carol took the big plastic cup out and closed the door.

"It wasn't any of my business." She said evenly, ignoring the built in straw and pulling off the lid to take a sip of the iced juice.

"Lori said you were upset." He countered, looking at her with a little head tilt.

"Lori has a big mouth." Carol twisted her lips in displeasure, pacing over towards the door and then back again. "Like I said, it's none of my business, Daryl."

 _Daryl_ again—she _was_ pissed.

"I was gonna tell you about me n' 'Sita, but I wanted to talk to her first." Daryl went on. "Can you please sit, you're givin' me vertigo lookin' up at ya movin' all around."

Carol made a disbelieving face at him, but sat opposite him at the table, setting her cup down in front of her.

"I'm going to tell you what went on between us—but this ain't tit for tat—I don't need you to tell me about your stuff until you're ready to, okay?" Daryl asked.

Carol frowned but nodded yes, looking relieved.

"Rosita n' me were married for about two years, goin' on eight years ago now." Daryl began. "Met on the circuit and had been dating about three months when she come up pregnant. We got married, but she lost it about three months in. I was there when it happened and she hemorrhaged and almost died—luckily we were with her EMT buddies and they stabilized her until we could get to the hospital."

"I'm so sorry..."A look of empathy and understanding crossed Carol's face. She hurt for him. To have lost a child...

Daryl nodded, but needed to finish, so she let him.

"She thought I'd just leave her then, but I didn't. Took us another year and a half to face up to the fact that we were great in bed, but that was all we had. We didn't want any of the same things outa life and then we started fightin' like cats and dogs trying to change each other into what we wanted. After the divorce we had a 'same time next year' kind of thing whenever we ended up at the same venue."

Daryl reached across the table and took Carol's hand in his.

"I told her today that's over because I met someone. She didn't take it too well." He finished.

"Ya think?" Carol said dryly, rolling her eyes at him, but then sobered. "Did you love her?"

"Cared about her-wanted the baby-but lookin' back? No. I didn't. I _don't_. You don't have to worry about her." he said.

What he didn't tell her that he'd felt more from the simple hugs they'd exchanged at the street dance the other night than he'd ever felt even in the most intimate moments with Rosita. It wasn't just his body that wanted Carol-it was his heart.

"You don't have to worry about her—or anyone else—this year? While we're out on the road? There's nobody else. For either of us." He pledged, hoping she agreed with that plan. It was too soon to tell her what he really wanted, because that was for a _whole_ lot longer than a year.

"But we're not..." Carol frowned at him and made a funny little gesture with her free hand. "Won't you get, you know..."

"Frustrated? Horny?" he teased, "Already told you, we're goin' for the _slow_ burn here, sweetheart, and that's all about doing things in the right order."

"Is that why you haven't kissed me yet?' she asked, her voice a bit petulant.

"You didn't like seein' her kissin' me today—n' let's be clear here, that's what it was: _her_ kissin' _me_ —now did you?" Daryl said, giving her a lazy smile brimming with sexual confidence.

Carol scowled at him and looked away.

"Com'ere then." He said, tugging on her hand and when she didn't budge he just leaned over the table and brought her hand to his lips. He kissed each finger and then turned her hand over and swept his hot soft tongue across her palm.

" _Dix."_ Carol sighed.

 _That was more like it_ , Daryl thought with satisfaction and grinned against her palm and kissed it, then her wrist, forearm, elbow, doing his best Gomez Adams impersonation all the way to her neck where he settled in to kiss, lick and nuzzle.

"Say it again," he ordered, his lips brushing against her pulse point.

" _Dix..."_ she sighed again, shivering with the desire he was building in her.

Then he eased away from her and sat back down on his side of the table.

Carol sat with her eyes closed, a faint blush visible on her collar bones and neck.

"May I take you out to dinner this evening, Miss Caroline?" he asked, his polite voice gentle gravel.

It would be their first date.

Carol lifted the big cup of lemonade to her lips and downed a good third of it before returning it to the table and opening her eyes.

"Yes, yes you may, Mr. Dixon." She said, imitating a southern belle and then smiled at him, her beautiful blue eyes dancing, "And I may _even_ let you kiss me goodnight."

"Like with tongue and everything?" Daryl raised a smarmy eyebrow at her and leaned forward, sticking his tongue out and wiggling it at her.

Carol leaned in and stuck her tongue out too, squealing with mock disgust when their tongues touched.

"I can't believe you remember that!" Daryl crowed.

"You said Merle told you that using your tongue was how you made girls _hot_." Carol whispered the last word and then they sat there grinning at each other remembering how their twelve year old selves hadn't understood the concept of a French kiss.

"Your tongue is _cold_." Daryl complained softly, pointing at the icy lemonade.

"Maybe you could warm it up for me..." Carol whispered, her long eyelashes drifting down, staring at his mouth.

This time when they leaned forward, lips brushed first, tentative, with gentle pressure as they met and melded. Then came little kitten licks, her tongue over his lower lip, over and over until he met it, opening to her, tongues sliding over each other, deepening, slow, heated, exploring, enjoying their first real kiss until they had to stop to breathe.

"Warm enough now?" he asked in a throaty rumble, his forehead resting against hers.

" _Hot_ , actually." she sighed.

"Damn, guess Merle was right after all." Daryl drawled.

Then they both giggled, happy with the discovery that despite the very real sexual attraction between them, they still had the playful essence of the friendship they'd forged all those years ago. It was a solid foundation upon which to build something real.

* * *

AN: I love these two so much! And yes, I will continue to tweak the ABC & ABD shippers...

Thanks for reading-let me know which other TWD characters you'd like to see pop up & maybe I'll incorporate them into the story. Back to work!


	3. Chapter 3: The Key to my Heart

_While the Denim Dreams sponsored rodeo team spend some time together bonding, the arrival of an old friend of Daryl's makes Carol question what he really wants._

* * *

 _The Key to my Heart_

The man's hands on Carol's ass made her temporarily freeze in place, too shocked to react. When he spoke, she quickly realized it was a case of mistaken identity.

"Hey Rosita you sweet thang—how's about we get a head start on big D and get this mighty fine ass warmed up for— _whoa!_ " the handsome flame haired man with a ridiculous handlebar mustache reeled back when she spit out her toothpaste, turned around and pulled the towel from her head, letting her damp auburn curls fall loosely over her shoulders in the terry cloth robe she was now very glad she'd put on after her shower.

Her icy cold blue eyes under raised eyebrows glared back at the intruder.

"Well, now it seems I am behind the times, don't it?" the man looked her up and down, dwelling on her robe covered breasts a bit too long, "Dixon's got himself a _new_ little somethin' somthin' and my, aren't you _fine_ , angel eyes." he held out his hand in greeting, "Name's Abraham Ford, steer wrestler, me n' Big D go way back—share n' share alike if you catch my drift—and damn that boy's taste for talent ain't never let me down." and he winked at her. "What's _your_ name sweet thang?"

Carol eyed his hand—big, strong, tanned and callused—and along with his Roman nose, a bit flattened at the bridge from a break some time ago, intelligent eyes, his broad shouldered muscular frame, big silver buckle, tight jeans on slightly bowed legs and the scuffed toes on his pointed boots, she could tell he was another one: a real cowboy getting his rodeo on by traveling the circuit.

In their event these men jumped off their horses and wrestled steers to the ground with their bare hands.

"Carol Pelletier, PR liaison for Denim Dreams, WCC, and this is _my_ motor home—Mr. Dixon's is the one next door." she said politely, taking his hand and giving it a firm quick shake before releasing it.

"Shit—really? Ah, shit Miss I _am_ sorry." he backed off quickly, pulling his cowboy hat off his head and looking contrite in an "aw shucks" way that was sort of endearing. He ran his hand back through his orange flat top and then grinned at her a bit bashfully, so in opposition to his earlier brash manner that she couldn't help a small smile.

"Daryl's next door." she repeated, crossing her arms in front of her.

"Fuck—sorry—damn— _darn_ , he's gonna kick my ass." he lamented, backing for the door, "Didn't mean no offense, miss. Like I said, Dixon n' me go way back." he paused, "You really should lock your door when you're showering, Miss." he advised her before tipping his hat and doing just that, pushing in the button in the center of the door knob and then ducking out the door and closing it behind him while simultaneously putting his hat back on.

She could hear him berating himself with the same colorful language on the other side of the door.

" _Fucking campers all the same brand and make all lookin' the fuck alike! Need some pictures on 'em or somthin' so's a guy can tell them apart n' shit..."_

And this time she did smile, but then frowned at the implications of the mistaken visit. It sounded like this cowboy was _expecting_ Daryl's ex-wife to be making herself at home in his camper and getting ready for a hot time with _both_ men. So he was into threesomes like his friends Rick and Shane? Was she being naive in trusting him?

In the past two weeks on the road they'd shared several dinners and a few more sweet goodnight kisses, but nothing more intimate than that. They were both busy during and pretty much exhausted at the end of the day. She supposed he could be going out to hit the bars after lights out, but she'd taken him at his word that he wouldn't see anyone else while they were on the road together.

Tonight marked the beginning of two whole days off. The rodeo they'd been supposed to attend had been cancelled because the site had been flooded by unexpectedly heavy spring rains. Instead of heading out to another that they'd had to spend eleven hours on the black top to get to, the group had voted to take a break. Tack and gear needed to be cleaned and repaired, horses and competitors rested and auxiliary personnel like her also needed some decompression time.

Maggie had arranged a meeting with a breeder who had a new horse she wanted to try out, so they had all planned on meeting up at the arena to watch her put it through its paces and then have a barbeque picnic back at the campgrounds.

Running late because of Mr. Ford's interruption, Carol was still putting on her make-up when a knock on her door sounded.

"Caro—you still in there?" Daryl's voice called, "You want to walk over to the arena with us?"

"Be out in a minute." she called back and looked herself up and down in the full length mirror on the back of the bathroom door.

The day after Daryl had gently explained to her the unsuitability of her clothes, Carol had a brainstorm. She called the main office and asked to have a travelling shop become part of the Denim Dreams team motorcade. They had several of them—basically a panel truck that folded out into a small store and could be set up at fairgrounds or rodeo arenas—selling everything from saddles, bridles and blankets to shirt, jeans, hats and belts.

When it arrived, stocked primarily with the new DD line, Carol treated herself and the team to a little shopping spree. The downside was that she had to work there running the shop when she'd rather be watching the events, but she'd just gotten authorization to hire someone to work there as a clerk, so once she found the right person, she could rejoin Lori in the stands.

Tonight she was wearing a pale blue with red piping western cut slim fit shirt that hugged her curves like a lover, boot cut jeans, her new red cowboy boots and a leather belt tooled with five petaled white roses and her first name carved into the leather on the back that Daryl had presented her with along with a smaller silver buckle.

When she read the date and inscription on it she realized the buckle must've been one of the first ones he'd ever won, for riding a calf at age eight. He'd stood there silently, watching her read it, chewing on his thumbnail nervously like he used to when they were kids. It was one of the sweetest things anyone had ever done for her. He'd gotten a big kiss for it.

She turned around and checked her ass in the mirror, forcing herself to stop wishing it was smaller or rounder or just _better_ , in the form fitting denim, fortifying herself with the thought that Mr. Abraham Ford had thought it "mighty fine" when he'd had his big hands on it earlier.

With a sigh she grabbed her key and pulled the chain she wore it on over her head and tucked it down inside her bra. She unsnapped one more pearl studded snap, but then frowned at herself and re-snapped it and then also snapped the one above it so her throat and a bit of collarbone were visible, but no cleavage.

Satisfied she looked good, but not buckle bunny slutty—she was not a fan of rhinestones—Carol went to the door, opening it and then pushing the button to lock it when she closed it behind her. On her doorstep she found a casually and cleanly dressed pair of cowboys waiting on her.

Daryl wore a navy blue western shirt that looked like it had been tailored to his broad shouldered narrow hipped frame. Ford, in a green plaid, was almost a head taller than Daryl, but their shoulders were almost exactly the same in breadth, the realization of which made her stomach do a little flip of appreciation. They were both good looking men, but it was Dix's smile of approval as both men looked her up and down that brought a blush to her cheeks.

He just _did_ it for her, all the way around.

In a show of possession of sorts, Daryl held out his hand to her and when she took it, he laced their fingers together and pulled her in for a quick kiss to her temple.

" _You look nice, Shortcake."_ he said sweetly against her brow and she melted at the childhood nickname he'd given her, a pleased smile briefly lighting her face.

"So do you, bull rider." she returned softly, smoothing her free hand down the front of his shirt, shyly keeping her eyes lowered.

"Gonna be late." Abe said gruffly and started forward, bumping Daryl's shoulder on his way past.

* * *

After several runs, it was clear that the horse for sale was good, but not up to the gold standard of Buttons, so Maggie decided to pass, thanking the owners for letting her do the test. They were a brother and sister team, Tyreese and Sasha Williams. He was a big beefy easy going guy who would've made a good steer wrestler and she was a smart, pretty woman, the trainer of the reining horses they sold for the Quarter Horse show circuit.

Their stable was in Kansas City and they were trying to branch out into training rodeo event horses as well. Everyone seemed to be having a good time—Abe was flirting shamelessly with Sasha—but his mood turned sour when the Williams were invited along to the barbecue, but declined, saying they wanted to get on the road to the next venue before nightfall.

By the time they'd finished eating; Ford was on his second six pack and getting surly.

The women went inside Carol's motor home to look at some website with supposedly wonderful baby stuff on it, leaving the men to tend the fire ring and clean the grills. Abe had taken the opportunity to start complaining about Daryl not being up for a "good time" the way he used to be.

"You didn't look twice at that hot as fuck horse trainer, D. You'd a given her the nod, she'd have stayed."Abe accused, crushing a beer can in his beefy hand and tossing it like a free throw onto a pile of other dead soldiers that was growing larger at the edge of the fire ring.

Paul, Glenn, Shane and Rick's eyes went to Daryl to see how he'd react. No one was quite sure what was going on with him and Carol since they had separate RVs and had made no outward declaration about any relationship other than renewing their childhood friendship.

"I mean, days gone by? You an' me'd have gone hog wild we had a cozy set up like this on the road. Fuck tryin' to keep the noise down in a motel room—just drive your fancy rig out to the middle of nowhere and screw some chick's brains out, even if she's a screamer." he pouted, "Course with your big dick down her throat and mine in her pussy she'd have a hard time getting' any noise out at'all—M'I right, D?" he laughed, not seeming to notice that Daryl was glaring at him.

"Days gone by was a _long_ time ago, Abe." Daryl said quietly.

"Then that wasn't you n' me makin' a Rosita samwich eight months ago in Albuquerque?"

"More like eigh _teen_ months ago, Ford." Daryl said evenly, "I ended things with 'Sita before I started seeing Carol."

The other men exchanged a raised eyebrow look at the official sounding words.

"How's that workin' out for ya—fuckin' the boss lady, then?" Abe snarked.

"She _ain't_ my boss." Daryl said, his low tone taking on a growl. "And our relationship is none of your business."

" _Relationship?"_ Abe snorted, "Daryl _fucking_ Dixon don't _do_ relationships."

"You actin' like an asshole just coz you think you can't get laid without Dixon's big... uh... _biceps_ to sweeten the pot?" Shane asked sarcastically, deliberately trying to take the heat of Abe's anger off Daryl and put it on himself.

Abe took another swig from his beer, finishing off the can and he bent his right arm at the elbow and flexed, his biceps straining against the cloth of his shirt until it literally burst the seams with a Hulk-like ripping sound. Then he lifted the empty can and slammed it against his forehead, crunching it flat.

"Right. Dead sexy. The women will be all over you..." Rovia chuckled drolly, rolling his eyes at the macho display.

"Damn schtraight, Jesus." Abe said, starting to slur, and then he gestured at Daryl. "Who needs that little motherfucker n' his big dick?"

Of course Carol and the other women chose just that moment to come out of the motor home to rejoin the men at the campfire. Enid, Maggie and Glenn's foster daughter and nanny, was first out the door, carrying baby Hershel. At the foul words she heard the girl pulled up short in confusion.

"You need to shut that sh—stuff down, Abraham, _now_." Daryl said in a low sharp voice.

"What? You tappin' the babysitter too, D?" Abe snarked, reaching for another can of beer and using it to gesture at the girl.

Enid's eyes went round as saucers. Maggie and Carol stepped in front of the girl and Lori protectively.

"That's it." Glenn rose and at the same time Daryl said,

"You're _done_." and took the beer away from Abe, who staggered to his feet and pointed an accusing finger at Daryl, snarling,

"You think I need you? You don't run me!"

Shane grabbed one of Abe's arms while Rick grabbed the other, lifting the big man up.

"The fuck you thing yer doin' man-handlin' me, fuckers?" Abe protested, struggling in their grip.

"You're drunk and you're being a dick." Rick said with disgust.

"Thas' a given." Abraham laughed, but then turned morose. "All alone n' no place to put it in." and then chuckled drunkenly at his own poor joke before he passed out.

"We'll put him in my RV to sleep it off." Daryl said, resigned and disgusted. How many years had he been living like this? Getting wasted between rodeos and double teaming buckle bunnies with this asshole? What the hell had he been doing with his life? He was ashamed to even look at Carol.

"Sorry ladies." Daryl said as he picked up Abe's hat and went with Rick and Shane who supported the unconscious man between them, his feet dragging on the ground, heading for Daryl's mobile home.

Glenn went to Maggie and Enid, putting his arms around them both and kissing the little boy on the forehead.

"Bedtime for little H." Glenn said with forced calm, "See everyone in the morning."

"Night." Lori said quietly as they left, linking her arm through Carol's to draw her attention away from the other men's retreating backs.

"Cup of tea? My place?" Lori asked and Carol nodded.

* * *

The knock on her door wasn't unexpected, but Carol still took a minute or two before deciding if she wanted to answer it.

Daryl had his hand raised to knock again when she opened the door. He looked at her from under the brim of his hat, his expression worried and then relieved when he saw her.

"Hey."

"Hi."

"May I come in?" he asked, taking his hat off and she nodded yes, stepping back to let him inside.

"Is he okay?' she asked.

"Propped him up with some pillows so he don't choke to death in his sleep."Daryl told her with dry disgust. "Me n' the boy's will take turns checkin' on him through the night."

"Oh... that's... that's good." Carol nodded uncertainly, wondering if Abe was in danger of alcohol poisoning. He was a big man, but that had been a big pile of beer cans.

"He'll have a hell of a hangover, then he'll be comin' around, hat in hand, apologizin' to everybody. He really ain't a bad sort. He just... when he drinks it all comes back..." Daryl turned his hat over in hands, looking down at it and shrugging.

Carol knew what he was going to tell her. Lori had thought she needed to understand why Abraham had gone off the rails tonight, so when Daryl told her the story, she'd have a chance to think about it before she made any decisions.

"'Bout six years ago? When he wouldn't quit the circuit, Abe's wife got tired of all the fear and the time he was gone and left him—took their two kids—then they were all killed in a car accident a week later on icy roads." Daryl said simply, though his voice was laced with pain, "We were travelling together when he got word. He broke apart—wanted to die hisself. He n' his wife had helped me n' 'Sita through... you know..." he shrugged again.

 _The loss of their child,_ Carol thought, knowing that it had affected him more deeply than he wanted to acknowledge. He needed to hear her truth as well, but now wasn't the time...

"So we kinda took him in, took care of him, got him through the worst of it." he continued, then looked uncomfortable and sighed. "That was when things really started to fall apart with 'Sita n' me though. She wanted... she thought we should... all be _together_... that it would give Abe a reason to keep goin'..."

"You don't have to—" Carol started to stop him, but he shook his head, still not looking at her.

"That's when I knew it was really over. I didn't _care_ if she was with him too. She was my wife and I watched them... I _shared_ her with him and it didn't bother me one bit. Wasn't jealous." Daryl said flatly. He chanced a look up at her then, afraid of what he'd see in her eyes, on her face, but her steady gaze gave nothing away.

"I asked Lori about it." Carol admitted. She had surprised herself in the asking, but Lori had been very frank. "She said that for them sex is only part of it—she called what they have _polyamory_ —that they _all_ love each other—Shane and Rick too—and that there's no jealousy in the sharing."

"Wasn't like that. With us it _was_ just the sex." Daryl said, shaking his head in denial. "Even after the divorce—if we were all in the same venue, it was just... _convenient_. Didn't have to put the effort into findin' some woman at a bar that was into kinky shit—it was a sure thing."

Carol took in that information without much reaction besides a small wrinkle of her brow and a little hitched inhale.

"Ain't done it for awhile though." he said quickly. "Not since Tulsa eighteen months ago."

"Why?" she sounded curious, not upset, so he told her.

"Abe got busted up real bad by a loco steer in Tulsa year and a half ago. I was his hazer that day 'cause his regular guy was out with the flu. Steer stomped him; broke his collar bone n' his right arm. He had to quit the circuit." Daryl told her, "I was chasin' points so I went back out on the road without him. Felt guilty, so I worked it out with Merle he could stay on our spread while he healed up."

"Points aren't _all_ you're known for chasing." she said, narrowing her eyes at him. She'd gotten her share of well meaning warnings and jealous bitchy comments from his former conquests in the last two weeks.

"Never said I was a saint." Daryl allowed. He needed the physical and mental release from his past demons that down and dirty sex gave him, but he didn't want to scare her by saying so. That wasn't what he wanted from _her_... well, not _just_ that...

"So you only quit having _threesomes_ because Abe wasn't traveling with you." she said, lips pursed, eyebrows raised.

Sighing deeply Daryl nodded curtly.

"And he's back now?" she asked."Rodeoing?"

"Merle gave him a job on the ranch, but Abe ain't been happy there." Daryl said, running his hand back through his hair, "He missed the blacktop. Wants back in."

"And he assumed you'd keep to the same arrangement, so 'in' means double teaming your current squeeze?" Carol said, her lower lip curling in distaste and turning away.

Daryl let go of his hat and reached out to gently snag her arm to stop her.

"That ain't happenin', Caro." he said flatly.

Carol stared up at him coolly.

"Because you don't think I would be into it?" she challenged, her eyes flashing, thrusting her chin out defiantly. "Or because I'm not as _hot_ as your ex-wife?"

Surprised, Daryl's head snapped back, but then he took a step forward, jerking her against his chest.

"Because the thought of _you_ with _anyone_ else makes me _insane._ " he bit out and covered her mouth with his in a devouring rough kiss, nothing like the sweet controlled passion he'd been giving her up until now.

The need he'd kept such tight control over burst through, leaving her in no doubt of the fact that he wanted her. His hands roved over the curve of her back, one settling between her shoulder blades and one at her hips, pulling her closer still, her breasts flattened against the hard wall of his chest.

" _Dix."_ Carol gave a little moan as she felt his arousal, hot and firm, press into her belly and she raised her hands to his nape, tangling her fingers in the unruly mass of his hair, tugging hard as her excitement grew.

" _Caro..."_ Daryl groaned as he forced himself to break the kiss, breathing heavily, resting his forehead on hers, "You're hell on my resolve to take this slow."

"Then _don't_." she said, giving his hair another tug to return his lips to hers.

He allowed one more breath stealing kiss before reluctantly releasing her and taking a step back so he could reach his right hand down and snag his hat off the floor, and then, holding it in front of him like a shield, he asked her,

"We okay?"

She licked her swollen lips, staring at his before she met his eyes, hers glittering crystal blue with desire.

"Which answer means you'll stay?" she asked, tilting her head to the side.

"Need to go check on Abe." Daryl said and fitted the black Stetson to his head, reaching his left hand back towards the door and turning to open it.

Carol gave a sigh of frustration, making Daryl turn back and give her another quick hug before forcing himself to release her.

"I ain't leaving 'cause I don't want you, Caro." he said with quiet sincerity, "I'm leavin' because I want _more_... because you _mean_ more and I want to do this right. I'll never lie to you. Okay?"

"Okay." Carol replied, crossing her arms across her chest. "Good night, Dix."

Daryl gave her a lop-sided smile in return.

"Lock up behind me." he reminded her and then he was gone, the door closing quietly behind him.

Carol stared at the door and then walked over to it so she could push that damn button in again. Then she winced and popped open the top three snaps of her blouse and lifted out the chain on which the trailer key hung inside her bra.

Daryl had held her so tightly that the key had bitten into the soft flesh, leaving a red outline imprint there that was sure to bruise, right over her heart.

* * *

 _Past traumas always have an effect on present relationships. Daryl has issues of loss and abandonment and has been numbing himself with random sex and alcohol for years. Even Carol left him without warning once before. Carol has a hard time trusting anyone because of her past._

 _Thanks for reading! And thanks for the suggestions about other TWD characters, I'll be weaving then in as we go along._

 _Let me know what you think if you have time!_


	4. Chapter 4: Bulls and Blood

Baby sitting duties lead to a childhood Caryl flashback and then a day at the rodeo proves troublesome as both Carol and Daryl have to face some unwelcome truths.

Rodeo Terms:

 _ **Rough stock:**_ _animals used for the bucking events, sometimes specially bred for it_

 _ **Bullfighter:**_ _An athlete who protects the bull rider after he dismounts or is bucked off by distracting the bull and directing its attention to the exit gate, sometimes stepping between the bull and the bull rider_

 _ **Covering**_ _: In the rough stock events, staying on for at least the minimum time, eight seconds: "He covered all three broncs he rode last weekend."_

* * *

 _Bulls and Blood_

" _It's bulls and blood,  
It's dust and mud,  
It's the roar of a Sunday crowd.  
It's the white in the knuckle,  
the gold in the buckle  
he'll win in the next go round.  
It's boots and chaps,  
It's cowboy hats,  
It's spurs and the latigo,  
the ropes and the reins,  
the joy and the pain,  
and the call the thing rodeo."  
Rodeo, _Garth Brooks

* * *

"I think I'm going to throw up." Daryl said under his breath, mock gagging.

"Maggie said we could make _suggestions_ , but he gets the final say." Carol reminded him out of the side of her mouth as they watched Hershel consider a blaze orange or lime green t-shirt to wear with the red shorts he'd already put on.

"A three year old has self-expression needs?" Daryl said, his eyes watering as he tried to smile.

Daryl had volunteered their services as babysitters when the midway full of games and adult sized rides at this week's rodeo, which was the highlight attraction at a county fair, had proved too much temptation for Enid and Maggie to resist.

"She let him name the horse." Carol shrugged. Though Maggie's barrel horse had a long pedigreed moniker, like most it was also given a stable name to be used every day, which was how he became "Buttons."

"Miss Carol?" Hershel piped up, looking at Carol with a frown. "I like both these colors."

"Well, I kind of pick my clothes by how hot out it is..." she picked up a sleeveless light blue t-shirt with a cartoon dog on it, "this one would let your arms breathe."

The little boy tilted his head in serious consideration and then nodded, taking the shirt from her and pulling it over his head.

"You're good with him." Daryl said, his voice soft and appreciative.

"Lots of... lots of high school babysitting." Carol said with another shrug as if it was no big deal, but she didn't look at him as she said it.

The little boy hugged her legs and grinned up at them.

"Needs sunscreen next, little kid's skin burns easily." Carol said, patting Hershel's head and Daryl looked through all the bottles on the table next to the layette.

"This one?" Daryl asked, lifting a pink bottle of lotion.

"Wow—SPF 75—I sure could've used this when I was a kid." Carol said, squirting some out onto her hands to start smoothing on the boy's skin.

"Yeah, but then we might not have met... _Shortcake._ " Daryl reminded her, leaning over to kiss the tip of her nose.

* * *

Twenty Years ago:

"Whatcha doin'?" the scruffy looking boy asked, making Carol drop the piece of fruit she'd just taken out of her coat pocket.

"What are you doing here?" she asked clinging to the knife she'd been going to use to slice it. She'd gone under the playground fence after school and hiked down to the flat topped boulder over the pool made by some long ago kids trying to dam up the stream to make a fishing hole.

The boy had just popped up behind her out of nowhere, like magic!

"That a lemon?" he asked, stopping it from rolling away by sticking his foot in front of it. He squinted his blue eyes and then bent down and picked it up to examine it.

"Give it back." she said and then had to sniff back the stuff that was threatening to run out of her nose. She hated crying.

"What are you going to do with it?" he scrunched up his face into a perplexed frown. "Ain't good eatin'—too damn sour."

"None a' your business." Carol retorted angrily, stomping her foot at him. "It's mine, give it back."

"You got yerself a temper to go with that red hair, don'tcha?" the boy observed with a little grin. "Heard you give them guys what for that was teasing you before. Saw you duck out."

Carol blushed, embarrassed that he'd witnessed her humiliation. That in turn made the boy look contrite and he took a step closer so he could return the lemon.

"Sorry—here." he said in a gentler voice and handed her the fruit.

"How'd you find me?" she asked in lieu of a thank you.

" _Tracked_ you." he said proudly. "You were noisy as hell. Coulda heard you from a mile away. You gotta walk heel-toe heel-toe out here."

Carol frowned as he demonstrated, studying him as he put one foot carefully in front of the other, walking away from her and then turning around and coming back.

"See? Quieter." he nodded at her but then his brow beetled when he realized she was staring at him. "What?"

"How old are you?" she asked.

"Ten." The boy stood up tall rising to his full height, and he was about a head taller than her.

"Me too." she pondered this, "That means we should be in the same grade, but you're not in my class."

"I missed mosta last year so I got left back." he shrugged.

"Were you sick?" Carol said, feeling sympathy for the look of surly sadness that passed over the boy's face.

"Nah." the boy said, looking down at his feet, wiggling his toes through the hole in the top of his right sneaker. "There was a fire. My momma died."

"You're Dixon!" Carol blurted.

She was new to the school, joining halfway through when her father had gotten a job and moved them this year, but she'd heard the stories about the woman who had died in the terrible house fire and the scandal that followed. The father had gone to jail while the fire had been investigated and the younger brother was sent to foster care until the older got a compassionate discharge from the Army overseas to come back and take care of him.

Attending school had not been high on Merle's priority list for Daryl and he'd taken him with him on the rodeo circuit for most of the year, claiming he was home-schooling his brother, until their daddy's acquittal had put a stop to it.

Daryl's face shuttered closed and he spun away and turned to leave.

"Wait! I'm sorry. Don't go Dix-" Carol called, cut off when he turned back towards her angrily pointing his finger in her face.

"Name's Daryl and I don't need no pity from no stupid ass girl." he snarled at her. When she didn't cower back he was surprised and took a step back to look at her in confusion, even more so when she held the lemon out flat in her hand as if she was offering an apple to a horse.

"I _am_ stupid. I was going to rub it on my face." she said softly.

"Why?" he asked, his nose wrinkling in distaste. "Cause a'what them boys called you?"

He'd seen them circling her right at the end of school today, taunting the new girl who had no friends, no allies yet. He understood. He had none because he was a Dixon, son of the town drunk who, according to town gossip, had avoided prison for the murder of his wife because the local fire marshal had been a gambling buddy.

"Freckle-faced Strawberry Shortcake." Carol grimaced and nodded. "One of the girls said lemon juice would get rid of them. I hate them. So I took it from the cafeteria."

Daryl nodded back. He supposed she did sort of look like the doll with her red curls and freckles, but her eyes were the color of the clear blue lake under a summer sky where he liked to go skip stones...

"Well, Shortcake, you can try it, but I wouldn't listen to what them idjits say." he told her sagely. "Matter of fact you should pretty much do the opposite."

" _Caroline_ , not Shortcake." Carol pursed her lips at him.

" _Caro_ -line?" Daryl stretched it out deliberately, smirking down at her. "Nah—you're just a little bit of a thing, Shortcake. Don't need such a long name."

"That so, _Dix_?" she sniped, making him chuckle.

"That's right, _Caro_." he returned.

And they smiled, pleased with each other's ability to sass right back.

* * *

Present Day

Walking along the midway, each of them holding hands with Hershel between them, Carol could almost imagine that she'd never been torn away from Daryl just two short years after they'd met, that they'd continued to grow up together, been high school sweethearts, gone to college together... that _he'd_ been her husband instead of Ed... and that _he'd_ been Sophia's father...

Then she wouldn't have lost her right to see her little girl because her husband's father owned all the judges in the county where they'd lived...

She needed this job and the bonus it promised if done well, to pay for a good family lawyer to try and get a change of venue so she could re-file for visitation and hopefully at least partial custody. The fact that the job came with Daryl Dixon attached had been an unexpected bonus.

Carol still hadn't found the right moment to tell Daryl about Sophia. At first, after she'd heard about his loss, she had been worried that he wouldn't want to start something with a woman who had a child, but then she'd started to worry that he'd wonder what she'd done so wrong that she'd been denied even visitation rights with her daughter. Her ex-husband had continued the work of lowering her self-esteem that her birth father had started.

Daryl wasn't like that. He had always been on her side, from the very beginning...

She looked over at the lanky cowboy next to her. More than one covetous female gaze looked him up and down as they passed and she found herself smiling back at them with pride that he was hers, at least for the moment.

"We need to stop and check in with Olivia." Carol reminded him. She had hired a woman to run the SWW mobile tack and clothing shop earlier in the week and this was only her third day on the job.

Olivia was bright and had a resume working mostly in retail grocery warehouse management, but had lost her job when her chain had been taken over by a larger corporation. Of all the people Carol had interviewed she had a unique response to the final question asked of everyone. If you could change anything about the DD clothing line, what would it be? Olivia told her that the line was amazing, but as a size 14, she'd just like to be able to wear it.

Carol realized for all their Denim Dreams of inclusiveness, SWW had neglected an vital segment of potential customers. She thought of the Bull doggers like Abe as well—big and tall for men was just as important a market as women's sizes beyond 10/12.

She'd hired Olivia on the spot and then put a call in to Michonne to talk about how to approach Negan into expanding the line.

"I like Miss Olivia." Hershel said, tugging on Daryl and Carol's hands which he held, "She lets me sit on the shiny saddles."

"You can sit on your folk's saddles anytime you want." Daryl frowned down at him.

"But Miss Olivia's are all covered with _silver!_ " Hershel said, awe-struck. "Shiny!"

"He must mean the fancy show saddles." Carol said, "There's one that sells for eight thousand that we have to chain to the van axle during the day and lock up in a vault at night."

"Maybe he shouldn't be crawlin' all over it then." Daryl observed dryly.

Carol pursed her lips in a way that said he was probably right but didn't want to talk about it.

"Up, up, up!" Hershel demanded and Daryl obligingly lifted the little boy high and settled him on his shoulders.

"Oh, how cute—is that one a' them Chinese adopted babies?" an older woman with a hennaed red bouffant hairdo straight out of 1959, wearing a peach blouse, and too tight pressed designer jeans asked, blocking their path and raising her diamond bejeweled hand up to point at Hershel.

"He's _Korean._ " Daryl said protectively, stepping back to keep her from touching the boy, who clung more tightly to Daryl's head and stared silently at the woman.

"We're just the babysitters." Carol said more patiently, "His dad is a roper and his mom is a top barrel racer."

"Oh, they're _rodeo_ people?" the woman said, looking surprised and straightening to look at Carol, her hand rising to her chin, "Well, I didn't realize... that is... _Korean_? Really?"

"We got all kinds in the rodeo these days: men, women, trans, black, white, red, yellow, gay, straight, bi—you name it, we got it, lady." Daryl said with a heavy drawl full of laconic malice.

The woman's mouth formed an "o" and her cheeks reddened in embarrassment.

"All I asked is was he adopted." she said primly and clutching her tooled leather and silver purse close to her side she bustled on past them, pushing through the small crowd that had gathered.

* * *

After briefly checking in with Olivia they ran into Enid near the food stands and she was ready to take back up her nanny duties, claiming to have spent all of her fun money on games and rides, but it was clear she saw the tension between the two of them and didn't want to sit through lunch with them in that state. She went off to meet up with Maggie, leaving Daryl and Carol alone to work things out.

They chose an "Indian Taco" stand—really folded flatbread with loose sauced meat and cheese filling plus whatever other toppings you wanted—and found a place to sit on a bench under some trees. Daryl had sweet tea—he didn't like to drink alcohol for at least a day before a ride—and Carol just water. They sat side by side and ate in silence until Carol couldn't stand it anymore.

"You could've been nicer." Carol said to Daryl under her breath, staring forward in the opposite direction.

"She was a _bigot_." Daryl fumed, taking a big bite and talking with his mouth full. "People like that need to have somebody take 'em down a few notches." Then he wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

Carol threw a napkin at him.

"What if she's someone important?" Carol asked him, still speaking quietly, "We're promoting a _brand_ , here Daryl. We can't go around offending people."

" _She_ offended _me_. What she said about our _friends_ should've offended _you_." Daryl said tightly, "Or do you agree with her assumption that only _white_ people should be competing in rodeo?"

"Of course I don't agree with her, but embarrassing her in public like that will only harden her prejudices, not alter them." Carol argued, standing up as if she intended to leave. "You didn't accomplish anything."

"When did you start backing down from a fight?" Daryl asked, taking her elbow to stop her.

"When I learned that sometimes losing the fight means you lose _everything_." she said in angry frustration, fighting the tears filling her eyes, sitting back down hard.

"What do you mean?" Daryl asked, his brow creasing in concern, sensing that she had something else going on that she hadn't shared with him. He knew she had to have on-going issues from what had happened with her father and she'd also hinted at the fact her divorce had been nasty.

"I can't... I can't talk about it right now—all right?—Can we just head for the stands to find Lori and go watch the events? _Please_ Dix?" Carol asked him, her eyes begging for him to drop it.

"You promise me we'll talk about it later?" Daryl asked, and refused to move until she agreed.

Carol gave in and nodded and then almost let loose a pent up sob when he put his arm around her.

"Whatever it is, I'm always here for you, Shortcake, you now that, right?" he said quietly, and kissed her temple before releasing her.

"I do know that... I'm just not used to it anymore... Thank you." she said, looking up at him gratefully.

* * *

They spent the rest of the day watching their friends compete. Bull riding, Saddle bronc and Barrel racing were considered the premiere events so they were on the second day, which meant that Daryl, Paul 'Jesus' Rovia, and Maggie were free to enjoy the first day of the competition as spectators. "Bulldogging" or Steer Wrestling, was up next.

It was Abe's first event after being off for almost two years, so he wasn't expecting his time to be very competitive, but he wanted to get a few rounds under his belt before the bigger money rodeos later in the season. The leader, Tobin Peters, had been first out of the box with a scorching time for this level of 5.6 seconds. Anything under 4 seconds was world championship stuff, so that was more than respectable for this early in the season.

Glenn's roping partner Morgan Jones had rejoined them after he'd taken off the flooded-out weekend before to go spend time with his wife and son, and he'd agreed to be Abe's hazer. His task was to keep the steer on the right line out of the box so Abe had the best angle of attack. As far as Carol could see, the steer wrestlers all tended to be big bears of men with a lot of brute strength and facial hair.

Two of the riders after Peters had ten second penalties for rules infractions—breaking the barrier too soon—and the rest had no time, so if Abe went clean with a fairly decent time, he could actually be in the money.

"He looks nervous." Lori said, looking over at Daryl.

Abe was pretty red faced and sweat was running in rivulets out from under his hat.

"Nah—he always sweats like that—he's fine." Daryl disagreed, keeping to himself that was the same face Abe wore when... well, let's just say that was his _excited_ face...

Then _boom!_ The steer was out and Abe was on him, off his horse and flipping the animal around and down. It seemed to only take a blink of an eye to Carol, but the clock said 8.7 seconds and clean, so it was enough for second place if it held! Abe was limping a little when he stood up, but otherwise seemed okay.

"So was that first guy—Tobin—was he lucky or is he just that much better than everyone else here?" Carol asked Daryl after they sat down from applauding Abe's placing. Since no one on the DD team had been competing in this event, she hadn't really paid it much attention before and wanted to learn.

"He has a good hazer, good horse and he's tall without being too bulky—broad shoulders, long arms, big hands and feet—best build for a steer wrestler. He has a lot of power but he's also fast." Daryl explained.

"What your steer does is the luck of the draw, but it can make or break your round too." Rovia added, "Just like your bull or bronc."

"That's why I like barrels—Buttons is one of the most consistent horses I've ever ridden—nothing fazes him. When he's on, we can't be stopped." Maggie said with a big smile and Lori gave her a high five while Enid baby high fived Hershel.

"How come Abe doesn't use a helmet?" Carol asked. "He's wearing a protective vest."

"It's not mandatory for his event." Jesus said, "Some guys say it messes up their sight lines."

"The steers are only half the size of a bull, Caro." Daryl said, "It's dangerous, but not the same level of risk as the bucking events. You get tossed or stomped by a nasty bull n' it's about the same as getting hit by a car."

"You got that right!" Jesus said in enthusiastic agreement, making Maggie clear her throat and nod towards Carol, who was frowning.

"Is that what happened to you?" Carol asked Daryl.

"You never saw his ride on Screwtop?" Jesus asked, pulling out his cell phone, "It's on YouTube. He's a real rank bull. Pretty gnarly."

"Paul, stop." Maggie said, grabbing at his hand, "She doesn't need to see that."

"Caro, you don't have to." Daryl said, but she held her hand out to Rovia for the phone.

The video was professional quality; the rodeo was being televised as a qualifier for the Million Dollar Sweepstakes that aired on one of the cable sports networks. It started with an over head shot of Daryl mounting the bull in the chute and it was apparent that there was a problem right away. The bull was thrashing so much that the judge pulled him back off until they could get it settled enough so he could get his legs down and wrap his hand hold.

When he was finally set and the gate swung open, the bull took a giant twisting leap forward and just kept spinning like a whirling dervish, looking like it was trying to drill a giant post hole in the arena dirt. Most bulls change up their spin or alternate it with bucking to try and dislodge the rider, but this one was locked in like the spin cycle of a Whirlpool.

Daryl covered, but as soon as he let loose his hand hold to let the spin carry him safely away, the damn bull changed it up and caught Daryl _in the spin_ knocking him around like a Dorothy's house in the tornado until he hit the ground, about to be crushed under the bull's feet _._

" _Oh my god!"_ Carol cried and almost dropped the phone, but Daryl put his hand under hers to hold it up.

"Watch the rest." he ordered.

Three men in odd short pants and what looked like body armor charged in, drawing the bull away from Daryl, who lay unmoving and bloody on the ground. When the creature was safely penned the EMTs rushed in to tend to him and the video ended with a still picture of a smiling Daryl explaining that he had survived his injuries and was now back competing again.

"Those men and my helmet and vest saved my life." Daryl told Carol, "I had a split lip, torn rotator cuff, dislocated elbow and a badly bruised knee from getting knocked around, but if he'd have stomped me full on it could've killed me."

"He split the purse he won that night with the Bullfighters." Maggie told her, making Daryl scowl at her for revealing that secret detail.

"They help people 40 times a night—we only ride once." He shrugged.

Carol was pale. So far she hadn't seen Daryl get bucked off or fail to finish his ride. Just how deadly this sport could be was something she'd understood intellectually, but seeing him get hurt made her feel like _her heart_ had been stomped on by a bull.

"You okay?" Daryl asked her, taking the phone from her limp hand and handing it back to Jesus.

"Fine." Carol said, with the most fake smile he'd ever seen gracing her pretty face.

"And _I'm_ fine." Daryl said, taking her cold hands between his and rubbing them. "All better now, see?" trying to force her gaze to him.

"Is Team roping up next or do I have time to go to the restroom?" Carol asked Lori in an over bright voice, not looking at Daryl.

"It is, but we still have the award ceremony for Bulldogging and then our guys are way down in the middle of the pack for roping, so you have time." Lori said, "In fact I think I'll come with—this baby is camped out on my bladder." she held out her hands to Daryl and Carol asking for their help to rise.

Daryl reluctantly released Carol's hands to help assist Lori.

"I need to pee." Hershel announced loudly, jumping on his mother's lap.

"Looks like we're _all_ going." Maggie said, giving a little groan as she lifted the little boy off and stood him up next to her.

"I can take him." Carol offered, glad to have something to do to keep her mind from veering back into the fears she didn't want to deal with at the moment.

"No, don't wanna go to the Ladies." Hershel said stubbornly and pointed at Daryl. "He can take me to the Guys."

Daryl looked questioningly at Maggie who nodded that it was okay.

"All right—but you ain't riding on my shoulders 'til _after_ you done your business." Daryl said, shaking his fingers at Hershel, who broke into giggles and came running to launch himself at Daryl, who caught him up with and _oof!_ and a light hug.

"You're good with him too." Carol said softly, and her smile was wistful. _This man so deserved to have kids._

"Hey look—Abe got second!" Lori said happily.

As they watched the top three finishers in the Steer wrestling come out into the center ring to get their prize money and pictures taken, the MC announced that since this was the premiere event in the first PRCA Rodeo that they were hosting, the head of the County Fair Board would be making the awards.

The woman in the peach blouse who had earlier been so surprised at Hershel's ethnicity strode out onto the arena, waving a peach cowboy hat at the crowd like she was queen of the rodeo.

"I don't f-ing believe it..." Daryl said under his breath.

* * *

 _Carol's insecurities are leading her to keep a BIG secret (named Sophia) from Daryl. Ed almost totally destroyed her ability to trust anyone with anything related to her daughter, so it's going to take a lot for her to trust Daryl enough to confide in him about what happened._

 _Keeping her job and doing well in it is vital to her hopes of winning custody rights. When Daryl endangered that, by being a little too honest with the Fair Board woman, it scared Carol. That plus seeing his dangerous ride when he was so badly injured is making her question everything._

 _Thank you so much to everyone who has favorited, followed & leaves me such lovely reviews! I really love reading them & hearing your ideas about the story._


	5. Chapter 5: Promises, Promises

_Things are a bit tense between Carol and Daryl as she announces a new development in the Denim Dreams ad campaign strategy._

* * *

 _Promises, Promises_

Carol looked around the small enclosed space of her RV kitchen and living space where the Denim Dreams Team had assembled for the early morning meeting she'd called. Maggie and Glenn sat at the kitchen table bench seats with Hershel lying sideways on their laps drinking some juice from a Sippy cup. Morgan was on the other side of the table next to Jesus.

Daryl leaned against the hallway wall with his arms crossed, frowning and staring at Carol with bloodshot eyes. She stood in front of everyone looking crisp and efficient in a white western cut blouse with a floral pattern yoke and dark green jeans.

"Thank you all for being on time. Today we start the interviews—" Carol began, but was interrupted.

"Press interviews?" Jesus asked, stroking his beard thoughtfully. He was a handsome young man with striking blue eyes. The long chestnut hair that gave him his nickname when paired with the beard only added to his attractiveness. He'd look great on camera.

"No—not for press, for publicity." Carol explained, "Our spokesperson will be doing a series of interviews with each of you that will be intercut with hometown background coverage, old and new competition footage and prize ceremonies to create short videos that can be cut for 30, 60 and longer spots for TV, in-store video and places like YouTube and social media sites."

"Spokesperson? Not you?" Glenn wondered.

"SWW wanted someone who's known on the circuit to do the interviews and then the narration; someone folksy and accessible..." Carol said, smiling, "...someone well respected by everyone and with a connection to people on the Team." and then she opened the door of the RV to admit a distinguished by friendly looking white haired grandfatherly but still vital man.

"Daddy?" Maggie exclaimed.

"Papa!" Hershel squealed and tossed down his cup so he could run at the man who stooped to scoop him up.

"Doc Greene?" Daryl said, straightening, sounding surprised and pleased.

A rodeo veterinarian for years, Dr. Hershel Greene had recently retired from full time, selling managing interest in the practice to his younger partner, Bob Stokey. He now lived in his own place on Maggie and Glenn's ranch, managing it for them when they were on the road.

"Dixon—good to see you son. You've been having a good season—almost as good as my Margaret." the vet said jovially, a bit of his Georgia accent warming his voice to the down home folksiness Carol had alluded to.

"But if you're here..." Glenn began, sounding worried.

"Sean's home from College next week. You know Jo and Bethie can handle chores fine until then. Bob's off rotation and promised to look in on them until Sean gets there and I imagine Jimmy will be making a pest out of himself as well." Doc Greene said.

Sean and Beth were Maggie's younger step siblings, nineteen and sixteen, the children of Hershel's second wife, Jo. Jimmy was Beth's boyfriend, who seemed to be making the Greene farm his second home.

"Thank you so much for agreeing to be part of this, Hershel." Carol said, extending her hand to him. They'd spoken on the phone several times, so she felt comfortable using his first name, but it made the little boy who shared it look at her quizzically.

"You, pretty lady, can call me _Doc_." Hershel the elder said with a twinkle in his eye, shifting little Hershel around so he could take her hand, and grinned, adding conspiratorially. "Keeps there from being too many Hershels in one room."

" _Smooth_ dad." Maggie rolled her eyes.

Carol took her hand back, favoring Doc Greene with an admonishing but pleased little smile at his flirting.

Daryl seemed to be grinding his back teeth together.

"The busy woman and the gents with the recording equipment sent me in to find out if you're ready yet, Caroline." Doc told her.

"Do I have a volunteer to go first?" Carol asked the room.

"I'll go." Morgan said. "Like my daddy always said, sooner begun, sooner done."

"Great—we'll be doing one a day for the next several days and the second unit will be getting coverage on your events and behind the scenes sort of stuff. Remember to only wear DD inside the arena and out this week while we're filming, okay?"

"When you say _behind the scenes_ does that mean they'll be following us around? Like for a documentary?" Paul asked, frowning.

"It's not meant to be an invasion of your privacy, but yes, the intention is to show you having fun in your down time in the clothes." Carol said, "You can tell them to stop if they're bothering you."

"So who are they trailing today?" Daryl asked, thrusting his chin out in challenge.

"Today they'll be set up to film each of your events, not any particular individual." Carol said evenly. "That's all for now. Hershel and Morgan can head to the tent we set up for the interviews. Everyone else can get ready if you have an event today. Have a great day!"

As the others filed out Daryl hung back, waiting until he and Carol were alone to speak.

"Ain't gonna apologize." Daryl said stubbornly.

"I didn't say that you had to." Carol responded, her tone patient but cool.

"She runs the whole damn _Fair_." Daryl grimaced. When he'd realized that the women he'd put in her place after her insensitive remarks about little H. was the Chair of the County Fair Board, making Carol's warning all too true, he figured she'd be on his ass to make it right.

"She's still a bigot." Carol said evenly. "You were right. The whole point of this campaign is to show people that rodeo isn't an alt-right enclave. Let the Team's performance prove her wrong and you right."

"When did you come to that conclusion?" Daryl side-eyed her suspiciously.

"I did a lot of thinking last night." Carol said, still in that cool too patient tone, "After you left with Abe..."

Yesterday, when he had seen the true identity of the woman from the Fair Board, Daryl had left the stands saying he was going to check on Abe. When she came looking for him later in the evening, Morgan had told her that he'd seen him leaving the Fairgrounds with Abraham in the other man's pick up.

"...and I realized it wasn't worth it to fight with you." Carol concluded, and Daryl's heart clenched.

 _He knew he'd fucked up yesterday by not curbing his big mouth and hadn't stuck around to hear Carol's 'I told you so.' He'd left to avoid her expected disappointment in him. Abe wanted to celebrate his placing in the money and by going with him to a local watering hole, Daryl had fallen right back into his old wingman patterns. He got his drink on and then flirted with a couple of local women who approached him and Abe asking if they were in the rodeo._

 _He woke up to a massive hang-over this morning and tripped over Ford snoring on the floor when he stumbled out of bed to take a piss. He was relieved to find that they were in his RV, alone, Abe still fully dressed, but wondered why he was only wearing his briefs._

 _Daryl came back out of the bathroom, rubbing his swollen puffy slits of eyes and licking his chapped lips. He looked around for his clothes, but when he couldn't find them he glared accusingly at Abe._

" _Where're my fuckin' jeans?"_

" _You puked all over yourself while you was cryin' so I took your clothes off." Ford said, "Stayed here to make sure you was okay."_

" _Must be why my mouth tastes like I drank straight outa the bar toilet." Daryl said in a drink roughened growl. He shuffled over to the fridge, ripped open the door and pulled out a bottle of water which he drank down in one long draught._

 _Tossing the bottle into the sink and leaning back against the fridge door he squinted over at Abe._

" _While I was_ _cryin_ _'?" he asked, a look of dread marring his face, waiting for the other shoe to drop._

" _Nothing happened with them women at the bar." Abe assured him quickly, "You had them eating out of your hand, but then you started talkin' about Carol and how you didn't deserve someone as special and kind and smart and pretty as her. You did about six shots in her honor, started crying—you were so fucking sweet about it you made all of the women in the bar cry too—and then you cried so hard on the way back here in my truck that you made yourself sick. A'course one benefit of that is it got rid of a lot of the tequila you drank."_

" _Fuck." Daryl said, sliding down the door to sit on his butt on the floor across from Abe._

" _Oh—I'm supposed to deliver a message from all the women in the bar." Abe told him, sitting up straighter: "Get your head out of your ass and apologize for whatever you did wrong."_

" _I wasn't wrong." Daryl said, lowering his face to his hands._

" _Big D? When 10 outa 10 women surveyed says to apologize, I don't think it fucking matters who was right and who was wrong." Abe advised. "You're the one was bawling his eyes out like a calf lost his mama at the prospect she was mad at you."_

Carol was still staring at him when he came out of his memory fugue. She didn't ask him where he and Abe had gone or what they'd been doing.

He didn't know whether to be pleased that she trusted him or worried that she didn't care enough to be jealous.

"I got scared." Carol said, her big blue eyes wide as she looked up at him, chewing on the inside of her lower lip.

"Nothing happened last night—I mean yeah, I acted like a stubborn idiot n' got plastered—but nothing else, I swear." Daryl said quickly, searching her face.

"I know that." she shook her head at him impatiently, taking a step closer and raising her hand to his chest, putting it over his rapidly beating heart.

"Then what were you scared of?" he said softly, holding completely still.

"I knew what you do is dangerous—I _know_ that—but seeing that bull... it could have killed you." she said, her voice breaking.

 _Damn Jesus for showing her that damn video and damn himself for not stopping her from watching it._

"I don't want to lose you, Dix, but I know it's what you do—how important it is to you..." Carol said, fighting the tears that threatened.

 _She was scared, but she wasn't begging or blackmailing him into quitting,_ Daryl had his brother, he had friends he knew cared about him, but he'd never had someone that put _his_ needs before theirs like this.

"I can't promise you nothing's gonna ever happen to me." Daryl said gently, his love for her rising up in him like a tidal swell, "Could walk out that door and get nailed by some asshole in a semi not watching where he's going or fall and hit my head in the shower or—"

" _Shut up."_ Carol said, giving an exasperated little chuckle and putting her fingers over his lips, "You didn't let me finish. I had enough years with someone running my life and taking my choices away to ever tell you to stop just because it scares me..."

He grabbed her hand and tugged it down, leaning closer.

" _You_ shut up." Daryl said, "I'm going for broke to win Nationals, but win or lose this is my last season. Thinking it's time to settle down..."

" _What?"_ Carol asked, frowning at him. "But the rodeo is the most important thing in your life..."

"Maybe there's somethin' else more important..." Daryl said quietly, watching her closely again.

Carol wasn't ready to explore the way her heart leapt at that comment and instead frowned at him in disbelief.

"If you don't rodeo, what will you do?" she said, backing away from him, but he just moved with her, keeping hold of her hand.

"Stock contracting. It's something me n' Merle have talked about gettin' into." Daryl said. "Right now we're mainly running beef and a few riding horses. We have room to expand into Rough stock."

"So you'd live on your ranch?" she asked, standing still to hear the answer.

Daryl was running his thumb over and over on her wrist as he held her hand, needing the contact, the warmth of her pulse against his skin.

"Maybe." he shrugged "Someone would have to haul the stock to the venues and see to them there. Suppose Merle n' me could trade off on that, but I like the life, the _people._.." his voice trailed off and then he leaned in closer and kissed her cheek and chin.

" _Dix..."_ she breathed and then sought his lips with hers.

Daryl felt a sense of pure relief, his free hand rising to cup her jaw as his lips caressed hers. This was right, this was worth fighting for.

"Whatever happens, it's gonna be okay, Caro." Daryl told her, " _We'll_ be okay."

Not trusting herself to speak Carol just nodded, nuzzling into his hand and looking up at him with those big blue eyes. Then she shook her head as if to clear it a bit.

"You need to get going; I have to go over inventory with Olivia before the shop opens at ten and then I have a Skype conference call with my boss and Mr. Negan." she told him and he reluctantly released her.

"If I don't see you before then, can we do dinner after I ride?" Daryl asked, "Bulls are the last event."

"After the awards ceremony." Carol smiled and nodded, letting him know she was sure he'd be in the money. "I want to watch that woman have to shake your hand when she hands you the gold buckle and that big fat check."

"Sure." he responded with a cocky grin, giving her one last quick kiss before turning to go.

Feeling a bit cocky herself, Carol leaned forward and gave him a good hard swat on the ass when he paused to open the RV door.

"You'll _pay_ for that." Daryl said over his shoulder as he set his hat and gave it a tug down over his eyes against the glare of the morning sun.

"Promises, promises..." Carol chanted, closing the door behind him and grinning happily.

* * *

 _I'm so proud of them for using their words! Carol still has things to tell him, but she got a good start by telling him exactly why she was afraid. And Daryl is so lovesick he's weeping in his cups to strange women in bars, LOL!_

 _Yay Hershels!_

 _Preview: Carol meets Eugene  & Tara next chapter & there's another kid Caryl flashback!_

Thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 6: Say Yes

_Daryl and Carol meet up with some old friends of his which prompts a flashback to an important night when they were kids._

 _Warning: Discussion & evidence of physical abuse._

* * *

Say Yes 

"He just wants my opinion on some new bulls—it shouldn't take too long then we can go grab dinner." Daryl said, putting his arm around Carol's shoulders for a side hug as they walked and then taking her hand to hold.

Carol was hot and tired and sweaty after the long day and felt like she'd eaten at least a full pound of dust today from the dirt floor of the arena. She'd hoped for a shower first, but as soon as he'd finished in the winner's circle he'd tucked the check in his pocket and handed his prizes—what looked like a dinner plate sized buckle and a saddle with lots of silver bling (Little Hershel would be delighted)—off to Glenn to take back to the RV and then jogged over to get her and told her there was someone he wanted her to meet.

The Fair Board Chairwoman acted like she had no recollection of having ever met him before until she saw Glenn standing behind him. Then her eyes went wide and her hands shook a little, but other than that the awards had gone smoothly. Rovia had won Saddle Broncs; Glenn and Morgan had come in third in Roping, while Shane and Rick had won first in the same event. Maggie was the only one who'd been shut out, knocking over a barrel, the time penalty forcing her out of contention.

"He's a stock contractor?" Carol asked.

"Yep—bulls, steers and broncs—runs a breeding facility near Denver." Daryl said.

"What's his name again?"

"Eugene Porter—he's a bit of an odd duck—but livestock genetics and management is his first love. He apprenticed with Temple Grandin."

"I've heard of her... read her book."Carol nodded, "She's done a lot to help people understand autism."

"That's why Eugene studied with her; he's on the spectrum. He has some trouble with eye contact and doesn't shake hands, so don't let it bother you. It's nothing you did." Daryl explained and then cleared his throat as he added, "And don't let the hair game throw you."

"The _hair_ game?" Carol side-eyed him.

Daryl steered her towards the stock pens where a dour looking man with a mullet in Elvis black waited.

"Mr. Dixon, it is a distinct pleasure to see you again." Eugene said, holding up his fist which Daryl obligingly bumped with his own, but Daryl's quick glance at Carol told her this was something new.

"Good to see you too, Eugene." Daryl said in a friendly tone, "I'd like you to meet my friend, Carol."

"No." Eugene said flatly.

Carol looked over at Daryl wondering if she'd somehow offended the man.

"As you approached, you held her hand with fingers interlaced." Eugene said and then he gestured to Carol's hand, "I have observed that is a gesture of intimacy between two people, such as when a parent holds her child's hand. However since you are obviously _not_ mother and son, I believe it indicates another kind of intimacy between you."

"You got me there, Eugene—Carol isn't just my friend, she's my _girl_ friend." Daryl said.

Carol quickly turned her head at Daryl in muted surprise. That was the first time he'd called her that. His shy uncertain head bob showed he was worried he'd overstepped, but Carol smiled back at him warmly, which made him sigh in relief.

"Hello Eugene. It's very nice to meet you." Carol said, keeping her hands at her sides, waiting to see what response that greeting elicited.

Eugene didn't offer her his fist to bump, but he did nod in recognition that she'd spoken.

"I too have someone new and hot in my life—would you like to meet her?" Eugene asked, shifting his eyes briefly to Daryl's before looking down at the ground again.

Daryl's eyebrows went up in surprise before he recovered himself.

"Sure. Is she here? Or... in the pens?" he asked.

With Eugene his new friend could just as easily be a horse as a person.

"She's watering the stock—we can go see her." Eugene told them and without further ado started towards the rough stock pens.

When they get there they could see a young woman dark hair pulled back into a pony tail and a curvaceous figure mostly hidden in baggy clothes. She was dumping a bucket of water into a water tank in a pen holding a huge Brahman bull.

"Tara, I would like to introduce Mr. Daryl Dixon and Miss Carol, his girlfriend."

"What the fuck—Dixon?" the woman said with a look of happy surprise.

" _Tara Chambler..."_ Daryl said softly, and Carol was intrigued to see a blush flood across his high cheekbones.

Tara tossed down the bucket and in two quick strides had Daryl wrapped up in a tight hug.

"Is she your _Caro_?" she whispered into his ear and then leaned back to look at him inquiringly.

Daryl nodded.

Tara grinned wide, and then released him. She wiped her dirty hands off on her blouse front and then offered the right one to Carol.

"I'm honored to meet you." Tara said to Carol politely as they shook.

"So you and Daryl were previously acquainted?" Eugene interrupted whatever response Carol would have made to the unusual greeting.

"Dixon and I are old friends." Tara replied, "We go way back—though not as far as some."

"I have known him for going on ten years." Eugene said, sounding a bit irritated. "But I do not recall him ever having mentioned your name."

"Let's just say we knew each other very well for a very short time a few years ago and leave it at that, Eugene." Tara said placatingly. "You know you're my best bud _now,_ right?"

"If I did not know your sexual preference ran to the same gender I would assume by that explanation that you were physically intimate with Daryl on a previous occasion, which would make this an uncomfortable situation for he and his present girlfriend and probable sexual partner, Carol." Eugene said in a curiously flat tone.

Now it was Carol's turn to blush.

"Remember when you asked me to tell you if you were squicking people out, buddy?" Tara said to Eugene in a patient but serious voice.

"It is true; I am not good at reading emotional responses." Eugene said and looked apologetically at Daryl and Carol. "I'm sorry if I offended you."

"No worries, Eugene." Daryl said patiently, and then cleared his throat and stepped closer to the pen fence, "Is this the bull you wanted me to look at?"

"One of them." Eugene nodded. "I've been trying to isolate the recessive gene to increase the muscle mass in the hindquarters by crossing—"

As he continued discussing his breeding plan with Daryl, walking around to the other side of the pen to get a better look at the animal, Tara motioned to Carol to follow her.

"Mind giving me a hand finishing the watering?" Tara asked, "I have three more tanks to fill before they shut the water off for the night. Not allowed to hook up a hose. May be floods two states over, but we're in a water watch around here."

"Sure." Carol said. She'd learned that rodeo people, just like ranchers were always ready to pitch in.

They went to the hydrant and filled two five gallon buckets each and carried them to the other pens, dumping them in the tanks until they were full with a minimum of conversation.

"Eugene doesn't really mean any harm—he's a good guy—he just... you know... he doesn't have any social filters." Tara finally said as she started filling the six plastic jugs she'd told Carol were to refill the drinking water reservoir in their RV.

"He's autistic." Carol said, nodding her head in understanding.

"He's _brilliant_." Tara said forcefully, as if she thought Carol was only seeing Eugene's limitations and not his strengths. "He's smart guy famous; has had papers published in all the top genetics journals, but refuses to go present them at any conferences. Too many people at one time stress him out."

"So you act as his social translator?" Carol asked, tilting her head in a considering look.

"I guess you could put it that way. He hired me to drive the truck hauling his rough stock about a year ago. I drove fuel trucks when I was in the Army so I had my class C license. I worked for my dad's Italian foods delivery truck service after I got out of the Army, but had a run in with some guys there about three years ago, so I took some time off and followed my girlfriend at the time around the rodeo circuit for awhile. She's a barrel racer."

"Is that when you met Daryl?" Carol asked, wondering at the connection. If she had the timeline right that would've been during Daryl and Abe's period of debauchery after Daryl's divorce and Abe's losses.

"You'll have to ask him about that...tell him I said it was okay..." Tara said evasively, her eyes looking over Carol's shoulder. "Can you take these?" she asked Carol, handing her two of the already filled jugs.

Carol heard footsteps behind her and turned to see Daryl ambling towards her in his easy stride.

"Sorry we were jawin' so long." Daryl apologized, and quickly assessing the situation he grabbed up two more of the already filled water jugs.

"Eugene get you filled in on his big plans?" Tara asked, looking around for the other man as she topped off the last two jugs.

"He's on the phone with Merle now discussing it."Daryl said, nodding over his shoulder. "I think it might be just what we were looking for."

"Great—I thought it might." Tara smiled and nodded. "We should get these to the RV, my arms feel like spaghetti after all that hauling buckets to the pen."

Noticing that Carol was standing there waiting patiently while they talked, also holding two gallons of water in each hand, Daryl looked abashed.

"Want me to carry one of those?" he asked, reaching for one of the jugs, somehow forgetting that he'd already picked the last two up. He lost his grip on the one in his outstretched hand and accidentally flung it at Carol, splashing her as it landed almost on her feet.

Daryl looked stunned and then face palmed in embarrassment.

Carol used every ounce of control she had not to burst into laughter at how adorable he was, her lips curling into a duck face before uttering a small choked, _"No."_

* * *

They declined Eugene and Tara's invitation to stay for tofu burgers and headed back towards the arena. As they walked Carol asked him to fill her in on how he knew Tara, telling him that she had told her to ask him.

"We met her and her girlfriend Alisha at a rodeo about three years ago." Daryl paused, looking unsure, but he'd already told Carol what the years traveling with Ford after his divorce had been like, so he took a deep breath and let it out and then went on.

"The barrel racer?" Carol asked, encouraging him to continue.

"That's right." Daryl nodded, "Alisha was bi and she n' Abe hit it off, so she invited us to party back at her rig. Abe said he'd like to watch some girl on girl, so after they... well, you know... Tara made it clear wasn't into guys and Alisha wasn't interested in entertaining me and Abe both, so while her girlfriend and Abe hooked up, Tara and I went outside and sat around the campfire, did some shots and made some s'mores and just talked." Daryl said, checking to make sure Carol was okay with what he was telling her.

"Why do all men want to watch girl on girl?" Carol asked, rolling her eyes a little at the cliché.

"Maybe we just want to see if we're doin' everything we can to make you happy when it's _our_ turn..." Daryl said earnestly and was pleased to see Carol's cheeks pinken at the thought.

"Anyhow, we talked awhile and I liked her—Tara is a no bullshit straight forward kinda person." Daryl said, "When I told her how long I'd been on the circuit, she asked me what I was running away from."

Carol reached out and put her hand on his forearm in empathy.

"I was kind of a bastard to her at first. Said someone as young and happy as her wouldn't understand." Daryl said, looking ashamed, "So she told me about what some of the men in her platoon and then some of the men at her old job had done to her..."

"They hurt her?" Carol said softly, her heart going out to the young woman she'd instinctively liked.

"When she was in Iraq." Daryl nodded, "One of the guys in her unit found out she was gay and said he'd out her if she didn't 'service' him and two of his buddies. When she refused they forced her. She reported it, they outed her and she got a transfer home and an early discharge."

"Back when it was 'don't ask, don't tell." Carol said bitterly, "Did the men get charged?"

"Two got demoted and reassigned to units without women... but the instigator actually got promoted and sent to easy duty at the U.S. Embassy in Paris. Turns out _his_ daddy was a general."

Carol understood that dynamic intimately. Men in power always got what they wanted. Even rapists.

"Guys at the pasta factory didn't like a woman driver who could back the trucks in better than any of them." Daryl continued. "They harassed her, threatened her. She filed charges, took 'em to court and won a big settlement from the company, but then they fired her dad right before he was vested for his pension. She gave him and her sister and niece most of the settlement and then hit the rodeo circuit with her girlfriend."

"You two had quite a talk that night." Carol said. She found herself liking Tara even more. She'd been through so much and yet still had a strong sense of decency and optimism.

"I pretty much lost it after she finished. Ended up telling her about what happened to us as kids n' then about... the baby... She hooked me up with Denise, a therapist friend of hers that I've been seeing for awhile."

Frowning, Carol stopped walking.

"Seeing _professionally_ I mean... to talk...for therapy" Daryl said quickly. "Have you? I mean, have you even gotten help for what happened with your dad?"

"My mom took me to a counselor after we moved to Chicago." Carol shrugged, adding a bit bitterly, "It made her feel better to know she did something, even if it was too late."

"People see what they want to see, Caro. She couldn't imagine your father would do something like that. She got you away from him when she finally understood."

"I was never sure of that's even really why we left. She fell in love with Brian and my dad found out about the affair. He only told her what he'd really been doing to me to prove to her how undesirable she was to him; that even her preteen daughter was sexier..."

"He was a _pedophile_ , Caro." Daryl said, quietly furious. "You were an innocent kid."

"I went to her for help and she believed _him—_ he told herthat I was lying to cover up for my bad behavior with _you_." Carol reminded him, "I had bruises that _he_ gave me and he told her it was _you_. She called your father and he beat you for something _you never did_!"

"I about had a heart attack when you showed up at my house that night." Daryl said, shaking his head in remembered disbelief. "Knockin' on my window." He'd been terrified his father would turn his wrath on her for interrupting.

"I knew he would believe the lies and hurt you." Carol wound her arms around him in solidarity.

 _Daryl had been lying on his bed half unconscious from being punched in the face, his bare back bruised, cut and bloody from the beating as well. The only reason his father had stopped had been because the door bell rang. Carol had called in a pizza delivery to this address to get him away from Daryl._

 _Daryl tried to get her to leave, but she was as stubborn as ever, telling him she wasn't leaving without him._

 _His father had come back into the room just as she'd gotten a sheet wrapped around Daryl to slow the bleeding and was trying to convince him to come with her back out the window._

 _Daryl pushed her behind him and told her to just go, but Carol refused and stepped around him to confront his father._

 _When a drunken Mr. Dixon had asked her what the hell she thought she was doing, Carol told him if she wasn't home when her parents came to check on her, they would find the note she'd left on her bed saying she'd gone to be with Daryl and they'd send the police here._

 _It was a complete bluff. Her parents had locked her in her room as punishment and left to attend a business dinner. They wouldn't check on her until morning._

 _The thought of the law finding the stark fresh evidence of what he'd done to Daryl had sobered his father right up. He'd gotten surly and told them to just be quiet and let him get back to sleep. He left them alone, but came back a few minutes later and threw a bunch of condoms at them and told them they could do as much screwing around as they wanted, just use the rubbers if they fucked and don't leave the damn evidence where her parents could see it. Then he stalked out of the room._

" _What the hell is he talkin' about?" Daryl asked Carol, bewildered. Despite the pain he was in, he blushed beet red to the tips of his ears as he looked down at the condoms strewn on his bedroom floor._

" _Didn't he tell you why he was beating you?" Carol asked him distractedly, looking at the blood seeping through the sheet over Daryl's back, wondering if she should take him to the hospital._

" _He don't ever need a reason when he's drinkin'," Daryl said, his eyes narrowing in pain. The big silver buckle had really sliced him up this time. He'd have to sleep on his belly for a month at least._

" _You're still bleeding." Carol said, growing more concerned. "I need to get you some help... a doctor..."_

" _No doctors. You can help... please?" he asked her. "Up in the closet—blue Rubbermaid container—can you get it down?"_

 _Carol looked around the room and pulled the desk chair over to the door less closet. On a high shelf was the container he'd asked for and she just barely got her fingers on it. Being short sucked. She looked around and then grabbed a clothes hanger and used it to snag the handle of the thing and slid it far enough forward she could get a hold on it and bring it down._

" _Why are there no doors in your room?" she asked as she carried the container over to where he'd sat down on the bed._

" _So I can't hide." Daryl said flatly and tears sprung to her eyes. She supposed it was a delayed reaction to everything that had happened today, but it made her angry and she tried to force then back. The thought that neither of them was safe in their own homes made her anger settle hard in her gut._

 _Daryl lifted the lid off the container and Carol saw that it was full of medical supplies, gauze, hydrogen peroxide, antibacterial ointment, numbing gel, the ice packs that you just had to bend to activate, Ace bandages, even wrist, arm and ankle splints; everything that someone who was being regularly beaten would need._

" _God, Dix..." Carol gave a little sob and put her hand over her mouth to try to stifle her need to cry, but lost the battle, unable to control her tears._

 _Daryl comforted her as best he could, letting her rest her head on his lap and running his stiff fingers through her soft curls. Responding to the tenderness she cuddled closer, careful not to touch his back, but soaking up his warmth none the less. When she curled around him, her shirt rode up and he saw the finger shaped bruises on her waist and lower back._

" _Why does my daddy think we're doin' sex stuff, Caro? We ain't never even kissed." Daryl asked carefully, not taking his eyes off the marks._

" _Because my mother told him we were." Carol said softly._

" _Did you tell her that?" Daryl asked._

" _No." she said._

" _Then why does she think that?"_

" _Because she doesn't believe that it's my father doing it to me." Carol whispered and stiffened, waiting for him to push her away. He didn't, but his hand stopped sifting through her hair._

 _Daryl felt like he was going to throw up._

 _He'd stopped crying for himself a long time ago, but he felt his chest go tight and his eyes fill for her. He could numb himself to his own pain, but the thought of someone hurting her was agony. Despite the way it pulled at his fresh wounds he wrapped his arms around her and curled over her like an umbrella, hugging her to him as if he could protect her from this horrible world that made children something to be devoured not cherished._

 _A week later she was gone without a word of goodbye._

"Maybe you could talk to someone like Denise too." Daryl suggested, returning the embrace and gently rubbing her back. "She's helped me let go of a lot of the anger, especially since I really can't ever get closure with the person who caused it."

"Maybe." Carol said, turning her head so her cheek rested against his chest. Her father's death had taken away any chance for her to confront him, but it had also released her from the need to hide from her past; to forget about Daryl. Losing him had been part and parcel of her mother's betrayal.

Over the years she'd tried to forgive her mother for not believing her, but it had been hard to let go of the feelings of betrayal. She hadn't gone to her and Brian when everything had gone wrong in her marriage or when she'd lost Sophia. There just wasn't enough trust between them.

"So what do you feel like eating?" Daryl asked, brushing a kiss to the top of her head, sensing she was ready to change the subject for now. "We could go into town, but Jesus said the Lutherans' barbeque pit or the Catholic Beer Garden have pretty good eats if you want to stay on the Fair Grounds. Then we could walk around and look at the home show and animal exhibits later if you want..."

"What I'd really like before anything is to get cleaned up." Carol said, grimacing and releasing her hold on him. "I feel all gritty and sweaty."

"Damn, I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking." Daryl said with chagrin, dropping his arms as well. She always looked beautiful to him, but she'd worked all morning and then sat in the hot sun all afternoon watching him and the others complete, of course she'd need to clean up before they ate. For that matter he probably smelled like bull sweat and horse shit and she was being polite by being so close to him.

"It's okay, really. Why don't we shower and then decide where we want to go to eat?" Carol suggested.

"I'll wash your back if you wash mine?" The left side of Daryl's lips quirked up into a seductive little smile, his eyes darkening to a deep indigo and he let his hand drift back to lightly run the length of her spine stopping at the small of her back.

Carol blushed, realizing what she had said. The way he was looking at her and the gentle ways he always touched her allowed her to feel the heated desire he provoked, that hot under the collar, knees weak, panty dampening, nipples saluting _heat_.

"I felt safer with the shy dork that dropped a water jug on my feet..." Carol teased and like a light switch flipped, Daryl dropped his hand away from her and then stepped back, holding both hands out in front of him.

"You should _always_ feel safe with me, Caro." Daryl said carefully, with underlying sadness.

"That isn't what I meant." Carol said quickly, reaching out and taking hold of the front of his shirt to keep him from retreating further, "I do... I trust you... and... I do _want_ you..."

"It's me, sweetheart. I know what you went through back then... and from the little you said I think there's even more you haven't told me that's happened since. That's why we've been taking it slow."

" _Dix..."_ Carol stepped even closer, her hands resting flat, palms down on his chest, looking up into his face beseechingly.

"I'm attracted to you, Caro. I think you know that; but it's not just the chance to get you into my bed that's the pull between us. You were my best friend, the first _real_ friend I ever had. We went through some heavy shit together when we were just kids... but it's been twenty years and we've both done a lot of living since then."

Carol nodded in agreement. He'd already been so forthcoming about his past with her and she'd been holding back. She needed to let go and let him decide if he still wanted her after learning her truths.

"We need to talk—really talk—and to do that we need some privacy." Daryl said, bringing his hands up to rest on the points of her hips, tugging her closer, "Problem is, there's other things that's playin' on an infinite loop in my _other_ brain that the thought of bein' _alone_ with you brings... _up_."

Carol gave a little sharp intake of breath at the innuendo laden words, but didn't pull away.

"So if you say _yes_ , tonight we're gonna have us a talk, but talkin's not all we're gonna do; that sound okay?" his voice was a mix of desire and tentativeness, confidence and shyness that was as endearing as it was seductive.

"Yes."

* * *

 _There! I got Eugene and Tara in there for you, as per special requests;-)_

 _For more on Temple Grandin you can read her books, or watch the excellent TV movie about her starring Claire Danes. She is an expert on livestock, especially on lowering their stress when penning and moving them._

 _Thank you for all the great feedback on this story; I love hearing your thoughts on the characters!_


	7. Chapter 7: Almost Paradise

Reminiscing leads to Carol and Daryl growing even closer.

Sweet smut alert.

* * *

 _Almost Paradise_

They went back to their respective RVs to shower, agreeing to meet back up at his place. Carol picked out a knee length jean skirt so she could wear her new pretty cowgirl belt and then chose a red short sleeved blouse to go with her boots. It seemed like a good outfit to wear for a night at the Fair. She wasn't exactly sure what else he had in mind for _after_ they talked, so she was a bit nervous as she knocked on his door. When he opened it she just stood and stared.

He hadn't had time to finish dressing and was bare foot, wearing only his jeans, which without a belt hung low on his narrow hips. His hair was still wet and dripped onto his shoulders—so broad that they filled the space of the doorway he leaned against looking her up and down.

"You look nice." he said appreciatively. "I'm not quite ready—had to return a phone message from Merle first—you can come in while I finish gettin' ready."

Carol felt stuck in place. He was so overwhelmingly _male_ like this. The tanned lightly furred breadth of his chest, the name tattooed over his heart, the dusting of hair that ran down his belly between the cut of his abs and hip bones... she was almost afraid to look at his arms, seeing the strong forearms when he rolled up his sleeves was tantalizing enough, but the sight of the smooth skin of the bronzed biceps that bulged under his shirts?

She had to close her eyes for a few seconds and try to picture him as a skinny twelve year old to keep her from hyperventilating and in doing so tripped on the second step.

Daryl reached out and caught her up to him, enveloping her in a warm comfortable hug as he dragged her inside and shut the door.

Carol didn't know what to do with her hands, anywhere she wanted to touch was all that bare skin and muscle, but it felt so right to be in his arms. When she finally settled on lightly touching his back she sobered as she felt the rough ridges of his scars and just held him tightly, her cheek against his chest and head resting under his chin.

"Do you know how much I've missed you Caro?" Daryl asked quietly, "How many time I wondered how you were, if you were safe? Imagined what you looked like when you were sixteen? Eighteen? Twenty-one? How I wished I could just talk things over with you when they fell apart? Or share the good stuff with you?"

She'd had those same kinds of thoughts about him over the years, but had forcibly put them out of her mind. Anything, anyone from her old life had to be forgotten, buried deep. Her mother's paranoia about her father finding them had consumed their lives until his death the previous year.

"I wanted to look for you, but I had no idea how to even start." Daryl said, his voice rough.

"I'm here now." Carol said, raising her head to look up at him and give him a sweet smile, "And I think the kisses we've been trading so far are about what our sixteen year old selves would've probably done..."

That brought a chuckle from him that came from deep in his chest and after a quick innocent peck he released her and turned to move over to the small living area and take a seat on the couch, patting the cushion next to him in invitation to join him.

Carol stood still for a minute, realizing he'd just shown her the full view of his back; the pinkish-red marks striping every place she had last seen covered with the still fresh open bloody deep wounds from his father's belt. That he didn't immediately pull on a shirt or try to hide them from her made her feel honored somehow. He trusted her with the truth of who he was because he believed he had seen hers.

"What were you like at sixteen, Dix?" Carol asked, working to keep her voice light and following his lead to go sit beside him. "Romantic rodeo hero with buckle bunnies already trailing after you? All the girls dying to see who you'd ask to the junior prom?"

"Didn't know shit about bein' 'romantic'. Was working at the feed store after school to earn the money for Weekend Rodeo entrance fees." Daryl told her. "Spent that prom night..." and then he looked away, his mouth twisting.

"Dix?" Carol asked, "What is it?"

"I spent the night of the junior prom in jail, Caro." Daryl told her.

Carol looked a little startled at the news, but knew there had to be a story that went with it.

"It was because of your father?" she asked, putting her hand lightly on his.

Daryl's mouth turned up at the corner. That was his Caro—not for a second did she think he'd have done something to merit jail time. He gave her hand a little squeeze.

"Boss let us all out of work early because of the dance." Daryl continued, "Didn't have a date—didn't want to spend the money on it—so I just went home. Came out of the shower and I caught my father rifling my room looking for my pay from the feed store; said I owed him room and board for letting me stay with him. He'd pretty much gambled and drank his paycheck away so he was coming after mine."

"You were a sixteen year old kid!" Carol said, her soft voice full of righteous anger on his behalf.

"Yeah, and I was smarter and more responsible than my forty-eight year old father. My boss at the feed store helped me set up a checking account to direct deposit my pay so my old man couldn't get his hands on it." Daryl explained. He still had the same account, still stopped at the feed store to see Reg every time he went home.

"When I wouldn't tell him where the money was he went after me—but after nine months bucking fifty pound grain sacks and hay bales I had enough muscle to fight back—so I _did_. Got a couple of broken ribs, but I ended up breaking his jaw. Neighbors heard the ruckus and called the cops and EMTs. Took me to the jail and took him to the hospital."

"But you were just defending yourself!" Carol said indignantly.

"It was protective custody. I flinched when they frisked me and they realized that I had busted ribs. Made me take off my shirt for the EMTs. They charged him with child abuse when they saw..." Daryl winced and lowered his eyes.

"Your scars." Carol finished. She'd seen glimpses of them before and tonight she'd seen them whole.

"It all came out then." Daryl nodded. "Not like people hadn't known, but you know how it was back then. People's families weren't any one else's business."

Their eyes met, remembering the night she'd made it her business to try and save him.

"So he went to jail this time?" Carol asked and Daryl nodded.

"Got eight years, but he was diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer's five years in. Been in a care facility on the State's dime ever since." Daryl told her, "Merle came back—home for good this time—so I wouldn't have to go into foster care and we could keep the ranch."

Carol gave him an understanding small smile. His brother was rude, crude and lewd, but she'd never doubted he cared about Daryl more than anything. She was glad to know that his father had finally gotten what he deserved. She brought his hand to her lips and kissed it in a gentle gesture of solidarity, but she saw something else flame in his deep blue gaze.

"So if you'd taken me to the junior prom, would we have danced or would you have held up the wall looking surly in your powder blue tux while I boogied with my besties?" she tried teasing him lightly.

"It wasn't the 80s and I never been _Footloose_ , Shortcake." Daryl grinned; leaning in, staring at her lips, "But damn if you ain't almost paradise..." he looked up into her mesmerizingly blue eyes and then back down to her lips.

" _Pretty romantic..."_ she said, making the same face she had when he'd bobbled the water jugs and then teased him again, "Screw around?"

With a growl he took her mouth in a scintillating kiss.

He loved her mouth, so soft and honey sweet, hot and receptive to his kisses, to his tongue, and he tasted her deeply, drawing out her eager response. He felt her fingers tremble as they trailed up into the hair at his nape, clutching at him to keep his lips where they were. His hands started to itch to touch her in some not quite so innocent places and...

... _Fuuuck..._

She was playing with his _ear_. Just those little strokes with her finger around the curve of the shell and down to the lobe that made his balls draw up tight and _throb_ for fuck's sake! How the hell did she know his ears were so sensitive?

" _Keep doin' that... my ear..."_ he ordered hoarsely as he pulled his mouth from hers and rested his forehead on hers. Then he started working the buttons on the shirt she was wearing, until he finally had it open and pushed aside, leaning in lower and tonguing each freckle he found starting at her throat, mapping them like a star field until they led him to a pebble hard nipple under the lacy cotton of her bra.

" _This okay?"_ he asked and when she sighed affirmatively, he found the clasp and with a quick flip of his fingers released it so her creamy breasts tipped with pink spilled out with a firm little bounce, making him chuckle in pure male appreciation.

Just as he was about to lower his mouth to taste her, he felt a wet warm heat replace her soft fingers on his ear lobe and then start to suck.

Daryl moaned and shuddered—what the fuck was she doing to him? He was hard enough to drive nails—painfully hard—so hard he had to reach down one handed to adjust himself in the now too tight jeans to get some relief.

He matched her suckle with his own, drawing down deep on her nipple.

When he felt her gasping moan at his ear, he just about lost it. Using both hands he found the hem of her skirt and started to tug it up but she stopped him.

"Dix, I'm not ready for—" she began, her passion darkened eyes regretful, but he interrupted her.

"Can I go down on you?" he asked, surprising her. _"Please?"_

The sight of him beside her half naked, politely asking her to do _that_ , was like every fantasy she'd been having of him since she'd first laid eyes on the _man_ the kid she'd known had grown into.

Unable to speak, she nodded yes and he gave her a wicked smile. Tugging the skirt up over her hips to bunch around her waist he groaned when he saw her pink panties, which were emblazoned with a picture of a cartoon bull and the tag line: _"Save a bull, ride a bull rider."_

"They're part of the DD line." she told him blushing defensively. They were one of a series of panties with rodeo themes using take-offs on the Big & Rich song, "Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy."

"They're mine now." he laughed and tried to strip them off of her, swearing when they got hung up on her boots and then pulled those off too.

When she was finally bared to him, he drew her slender legs over his shoulders, his left hand slipping down to push through her curls, holding her open for him as he kissed his way over the curve of her belly and found her so ready for him that his mouth watered. He licked over every soft moist pink fold of her, enjoying her soft moans of encouragement. He felt her hands on his head, fingers sifting through his hair gently until they found the tips of his ears again and she stroked them, feather light.

He sucked down on her clit, alternating that with fucking her deep with his tongue. His ass muscles tightened as he fought off his need, he was so turned on by her that his control was at the very edge.

Then he felt the tell-tale trembling, heard her breath catch, his name on her lips as she cried out and arched against his mouth, keeping up the flicking sucking action as she continued to come, her pleasure undoing him. As she subsided he kept softly kissing and licking at her, encouraging the little after-shock orgasms, the sweaty side of his face resting against her cool thigh, his left hand gripping her hip.

After some indeterminate time he felt her hand push the damp hair off his forehead and he looked up into her sated but curious expression as she propped herself up on her elbows to look down at him.

"How did you know?" she asked him, her eyes large and luminous.

"Know?" he asked, blinking to try and shake the unfocused floaty feeling out of his brain.

"No one's ever done that for me before." she told him, her eyes dipping shyly.

He didn't know what to say to that—for Christ's sake, what kind of a selfish asshole had she been married to?

"Well, how'd _you_ know?" was the only thing he could think to say back.

"What?"

"My _ears_... they... you practically had me coming in my pants the way you touched them... no one ever _did_ that..." Well, no one but _him..._ he amended to himself. It was his secret—the few times when he'd been with a woman and couldn't get it up or wanted to get off quick and get out—he'd discretely touch them himself.

"They always...I don't know... stuck out a little—when your hair was shorter, when we were kids?" Carol said, her smile indulgent. "They always looked a little pointed to me, like a hobbit's. And now with your hair longer I thought they'd be hidden, but they aren't–the tips still stick out like they're begging to be touched." To prove her point she sat up more and ran her index fingers over the tips of both his ears again.

Daryl closed his eyes and moaned.

"Can I... can I do something...?" Carol leaned closer, tentatively running her hands over his magnificent shoulders and down his chest.

"Nah. This was all for you, Caro." Daryl said, catching her hands and stopping them before they reached his beltline. "Wanted to make you feel good..."

"You _did_... I feel like I should send a thank you note to Tara..." she told him, giving him a cheeky little grin, but then her expression and voice turned soft and seductive, "I liked the way your whiskers felt on my skin. Your rough hands so gentle... your mouth doing amazing things... I really liked being eighteen with you... _"_

That made Daryl smile. Kisses for sixteen, now _this_ for eighteen seemed about right as he recalled. Not that he'd been much good at either at first, but he'd been fortunate enough to attract the attention of a friend of one of Merle's lady friends on that particular birthday—which he later learned had actually been a set up by his brother—and he'd proved a quick and attentive student.

One of the things he'd learned was that being just as sweet after as before and during was a trait women universally appreciated in a lover.

"Love how soft your skin is, Caro. Like rose petals," he murmured, releasing her hands and trailing his fingertips down the tender undersides of her wrist and arms. He moved them to her neck and collar bone, down the curve of her cleavage and then he gathered the sides of her bra back up and over her breasts and hooked it back together.

Carol make a little noise of protest.

"We need to talk and that ain't happening with you unwrapped on my couch like the best birthday gift ever." He shushed her as he started fastening her blouse buttons and then tugged her skirt back down over her hips.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Carol asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

Daryl leaned over, fishing around on the floor and came up with a sock and a boot.

She shook her hear from side to side.

He fished again and came up with the second sock/boot pair.

" _Dix..."_ she narrowed her eyes at him.

Dropping the boots he began digging in the couch cushions until he finally came up with her pink panties.

"Told you, they're mine now." He said definitively, shoved them in his jeans pocket and stood up.

" _Daryl Dixon!"_ the idea that he expected her to walk around with no panties on under her skirt both embarrassed and incredibly turned her on.

Ignoring her indignation he strolled over to the kitchen area. Going to the fridge he opened the door and just stood in front of it, letting the cooled air wash over his over-heated face and body.

He heard more than saw her get up and stomp to the bathroom, relieved she hadn't thrown one or both of her boots at him, wincing when she slammed the door. Then he smirked. He'd give her underwear back before they left to go eat, but right now he liked having her a little off balance.

Now that his competition was over he could have a beer, but settled instead for some of the sun sweet tea she had left on his porch yesterday to brew when she knew he wouldn't drink anything else when competing. She did thoughtful stuff like that for him all the time—and not just him—she was a good person. Everyone liked her. Even Lori, who had never been thrilled with 'Sita, had embraced Caro like a long lost sister.

He grabbed the sleeveless tee he intended to put on under his button-down off the chair he'd draped it over and then wandered over to the counter and picked up his I-phone. Using one of the music services he impulsively punched up a selection and put the phone into the speaker dock. Then he pulled the shirt on over his head, popped his head through the neck opening, pushed out his shoulders and slipped his arms through the sleeve holes. It was as weird a procedure as it was efficient.

Carol came out of the bathroom just as the song began. She'd pulled her hair back off her face in a ponytail with some wisps escaping to curl around her face. With her freckles and the minimal make-up she wore she probably _could_ pass for eighteen.

"Miss Caroline, would you do me the honor of allowing me to escort you to the junior prom?" Daryl said, holding out his right hand to her.

She stared at him as the lyrics washed over them.

 _I thought that dreams belonged to other men  
'Cause each time I got close  
they'd fall apart again.  
I feared my heart would beat in secrecy  
I faced the nights alone  
Oh, how could I have known  
that all my life I only needed you?_

Daryl gave her that seductive half smile he had and still held out his hand to her. When she finally gave in and took it, he pulled her in for a slow dance, his hands framing her waist and hers on his shoulders. They looked into each other's eyes as the song continued.

 _It seems like perfect love's so hard to find  
I'd almost given up  
You must've read my mind...  
And all these dreams I've saved for a rainy day  
They're finally coming true  
I'll share them all with you  
'Cause now we hold the future in our hands_

 _Almost paradise  
we're knockin' on heaven's door  
almost paradise,  
How could I ask for more?  
I think that I can see forever in your eyes  
Paradise..._

 _And in your arms salvation's not so far away  
it's getting closer, closer every day..._

When Daryl urged her closer and leaned down to kiss her gently, Carol felt a promise and perhaps a question in it.

" _Caro, do you think—"_

"I have an eight year old daughter."Carol blurted, stopping whatever he'd been about to say or ask.

"You _what_?" Daryl rocked back.

"Her name is Sophia." she said, her eyes filling with tears.

Daryl blinked at her.

"I think we better have that talk." Daryl said, his expression unreadable.

* * *

" _Almost Paradise" is the love theme from_ _Footloose_ _and was written by Mike Reno & Ann Wilson._

 _I adore NR's hobbit ears._


	8. Chapter 8: We Ain't Ashes

Daryl and Carol finally have the talk about what happened to her since he saw her last when they were children.

 _Note: SweetWater Brewing Company is a craft brewery located in Atlanta, GA. They named the brewery after kayaking down Sweetwater Creek, a tributary of the Chattahoochee River, in Georgia's Sweetwater Creek State Park located a few miles west of the brewery. The brewery also adopted the official motto "Don't Float the Mainstream" as a tribute to its namesake. The bottle that Daryl put the Cherokee Rose in for Carol in S2 was a SweetWater one._

* * *

We Ain't Ashes 

Rethinking his drink choice Daryl went to the fridge and grabbed them both a cold SweetWater Road Trip that Abe had picked up for him last time he was in Atlanta, and then shut off the music. He directed her to the kitchenette table.

"So this is what you needed to tell me? When you said we need to talk?" Daryl asked slowly.

Carol nodded, chewing on the inside of her lower lip.

"You have an eight year old daughter named Sophia." Daryl said, taking careful inventory of what she'd said.

Carol nodded again.

"So where is she now?" he asked, "With your mother and stepfather while you're out on the black top workin'?"

"My ex-husband has full custody." she told him, shaking her head.

"In what world could that happen?" Daryl said incredulously before he could stop himself, his tone implying that he couldn't imagine that Carol could be a bad mother.

"In a world controlled by Ed's father," Carol said, her mouth trembling.

"What do you mean?" he frowned at her.

"The town we lived in. It was controlled by Ed's family for generations. They always get what they want. They set me up to look like an unfit mother. I would have these episodes when I was taking care of her, my speech would be slurred, I had... accidents—I'd pass out—he told people I was addicted to the pain killers... even after I'd stopped taking them. The opiates I was prescribed after I... when I hurt my shoulder... in a fall..."

"When _he_ hurt you." Daryl said flatly, his expression filled with disgust.

Carol looked away from the censure she thought she saw in his eyes. She knew there was no point in trying to whitewash the truth with him. If he was disappointed in her for repeating old patterns, she'd just have to bear it like the weight of so many other mistakes she'd made.

"Yes. He hurt me." Carol said, her shoulders and back going ramrod straight.

"Why didn't you leave?" he asked with a scowl, "Go to your mother's?"

"We weren't... I don't really have a relationship with my mother anymore." Carol said, looking down at her hands which were picking at and slowly peeling the label off the beer bottle in front of her.

"Friends?" he asked.

Carol gave him a look that said he knew better than that.

"He isolated you. Just like your father did." Daryl said, that angry look back in his face _. "Fuck."_ he took a long swig of his beer.

That was one reason her friendship with Daryl had meant so much to her. She'd never managed to get close with any of the girls at school. Part of it was because she was afraid to reciprocate the offers of slumber parties or studying at each other's homes—afraid of what her father might do to another innocent—and part because she was afraid her terrible secret would be found out. Daryl was a boy, he was safe from her father's predations, but she still kept their friendship a guarded secret from her parents for as long as she could.

"When she was six I tried to take Sophia and run. His father's men found us at a shelter in the next town over and brought us back after a day and a half. He told me if I ever tried to take his daughter away again he'd make it so I never saw her again. I could divorce him, but he kept Sophia."

"You gave her up?" Daryl asked, his eyes narrowing.

"Of course not." Carol said, glaring at him in hot denial. "I stayed and took it... but the whole time after I'd come back from the shelter, Ed was gas lighting me, setting me up to get rid of me and keep Sophia. He filed for divorce and full custody almost a year ago."

"You fought it." Daryl asked, nodding as if in agreement.

"I worked with a family rights lawyer I met at the shelter. She does volunteer work there and told me I could take him to court. After my father died last year I inherited his estate, so I was able to hire her firm even though it made me sick to use his money."

"Naw—it was for your little girl." Daryl said adamantly. "Probably the best thing that asshole ever did." then he reached out and took her hand reassuringly.

Carol felt a huge wave of relief, realizing that the disgust and anger she felt from him earlier hadn't been directed at her, but rather at her ex and her parents.

"The custody hearing was about six months ago." Carol said, squeezing his hand gratefully. "After I lost I was... _lost..._ I'd spent the inheritance and since I'd lost the case I didn't get any spousal support. I hadn't worked while I was married—Ed didn't want me to— but my lawyer made me see that I could draw on my experience on all of the charity boards and volunteer committees Ed's family had me do. I found the job with Michonne through the shelter lawyer, Andrea. They're friends, she and Michonne."

"Do you have another hearing date?" Daryl asked.

"No." Carol said, her lower lip starting to tremble. "Andrea is trying, but Ed's father's lawyers keep blocking it by filing motions..."

"There has to be some way to prove what they're doing—what he did—that they set you up." Daryl said gently, sliding his chair closer to hers and putting his arm around her shoulders.

"It's been six months since I've seen her." Carol said, her years spilling over. "Who knows what he's telling her—that I abandoned her or that I don't want her—nothing could be further from the truth. I can't lose her, Daryl."

Daryl pulled her into a comforting hug and let her vent her fear a bit before he spoke again.

"How did you end up married to someone like him?"

"Because I was stupid." Carol said. "I thought he loved me and even if I wasn't head over heels he felt _safe_. I could be safe and the marriage meant I didn't have to go home to my mother after college... and maybe I just wanted to stop being _alone..."_

"What?" Daryl asked, sounding saddened to realize that she'd had such a lonely life even after she'd gotten away from her father's abuse.

"Brian and my mother were so in love that there really wasn't any place for me in their home. I was an obligation, something they felt guilty about."

"But you were a kid." Daryl frowned "You must've made friends at school church, something..."

"Making friends was never easy for me—too many secrets I might accidentally spill—and we never set foot inside a church after we moved." Carol explained, "Maybe because my mother never was divorced—she was afraid he'd track her down if she filed so she and Brian lived like they were man and wife, but they only got married after my father died."

"No friends at all in Chicago?" Daryl was devastated for her.

"I was a loner." she gave a sad little shrug of her shoulders. "In a lot of ways it was easier. There was no risk of losing someone I cared about if we had to move again."

The haunted look in her eyes finished the implied thought: _like you_.

"After high school, after I turned eighteen, I told my mother I was going to college and there was nothing she could do about it. I was tired of living like a fugitive."

"So that's where you met your ex?"

"Edwin Pelletier, Jr." Carol said, "Sweetest man you'd ever meet, when we were dating. Big man on campus. He had money and charm; all the other girls in my dorm told me how lucky I was to have caught his eye, little Miss nobody from nowhere. He became my everything."

"Bet he liked that too." Daryl knew all about the patterns that abusers followed.

"Ed was smart." Carol nodded, "He figured out the lay of the land pretty quickly. When he met Brian and my mother he immediately understood the family dynamic and told me that _his_ parents would adore me and welcome me with open arms. I believed him."

"Did they?"

"He gave them no choice. He'd picked me and he wouldn't give me up. I got pregnant the first time we had sex even though we used protection. He told me later—he _gloated_ —that he sabotaged the condoms with pin holes so I'd have to marry him."

She hadn't told Ed anything about her past experiences so he'd assumed she was a virgin and wouldn't know any better. The romantic evenings and nice kisses from when they'd first started dating had given way to an insistent demand to prove her love by giving him what he "needed" from her. When she finally gave in, Carol had thought she was finally going to experience making love, but it was just another rape.

" _Motherfu_ —what a _complete asshole_!" Daryl was furious.

"I told you I was stupid." Carol said, turning her head away in shame. Pregnant, a year short of college graduation, estranged from her family, she'd had few options. Marrying the father of her child seemed the best one.

"He used and manipulated you, Caro!" Daryl said, drawing her gaze back to him, "None of it was your fault; people like him spot weaknesses and exploit them. You did the best you could."

"I _made_ the best of it." Carol agreed, "As long as I could. We got married right away and I had Sophia eight months later—she was small, so most people went along with the idea she'd been a preemie. We moved back to his home town after he graduated—he was a year older—and he went to work at his father's bank. I was a stay at home mom, raising my daughter and maintaining our façade of a perfect little Stepford life. He started hurting me within the first year..."

"But he never hurt her?" Daryl asked, "Your little girl?"

"I would've killed him." Carol said flatly. She'd watched him like a hawk for signs that he was like her father, but never saw any. Even so she never left them alone together. She made sure Sophia understood the difference between good touch and bad touch from an early age. Not knowing what was happening to her child now would make her break down if she let herself think about it too much.

"But not for hurting you." Daryl said with deep sorrow. "Not to protect yourself."

"It was the price I paid. That's how I justified it. He gave me and Sophia a home and life. If he got frustrated with me sometimes and lashed out, it was probably with good reason. I brought it on myself, just like..." her voice trailed off. She knew that wasn't true; counseling had taught her that, but it was still hard to shake those feelings of worthlessness, of being damaged.

"You did nothing to make what either of those monsters did to you happen." Daryl told her firmly, "They were sick, or evil or weak—I don't know—but the wrong was in _them_ , never in you."

"He never let me go to the hospital after... an episode. They had a private family physician—a concierge medical service—that came to the house to treat minor injuries and illnesses. If I had bruises I stayed home with some made up aliment until they faded enough to be covered by make-up. There were no medical records kept except in my diary, which he stole and must have destroyed by now. The only time I had to go in for treatment was when he pushed me down the stairs for not wanting to wear this hideous gown his mother had sent me for a Charity Gala. I dislocated my shoulder... and I... I lost the baby I didn't even know I was pregnant with..."

Her devastated look when she revealed this had him pulling her out of her chair and lifting her onto his lap, cradling her there, his arms tightly around her, kissing her forehead.

"He took two children from me, Dix." Carol told him, allowing his warmth to seep into her chilled form. "That was when I decided I had to leave. I planned for months, skimmed a little off my allowance each month to build up a nest egg, and then I did just what my mother had done—got Sophia right after school and left—but I made the mistake of not going far enough fast enough. They caught up with us at the shelter. I hadn't planned well enough."

"You'd just lost a baby, sweetheart; you were hurt and healing and on those painkillers and sounds like he was dosing you with more bad shit too. It wasn't your fault."

"I failed Sophia." Carol said, looking devastated, "I can't let her be raised by that family, Dix! They're horrible people! I have to get her away from them!"

"We will, Caro." Daryl said, his tone brooking no argument.

" _We?"_ Carol leaned back and looked up at him.

"Merle n' me will do whatever it takes." Daryl said, "You and Sophia; you're family too."

"I can't ask you to do that." Carol knew that Ed's father would come after anyone who helped her. He'd already tried to buy out Michonne's company so Carol would lose her job. If she was unemployed the judge could use that as a reason to deny further custody petitions.

"Don't let your pride get in the way, Shortcake" Daryl said, brushing some loose curls behind her ear. "You aren't alone anymore."

Carol looked up at him, hardly able to believe he was taking all this so well and was being so supportive. For so long, she'd been conditioned to doubt the idea that anyone, especially a man, could be on her side, that it was an alien concept.

"Do you... can I see a picture of her?" Daryl asked, "Sophia?"

Carol pointed to her phone and Daryl snagged it off the counter and handed it to her.

"She's a pixie, like you were... _are..._ " Daryl smiled, looking down at the picture of a smiling green-eyed little girl with freckles across her nose and strawberry blonde hair.

"I miss her so much." Carol said in a choked voice, tears brimming over as she looked at the image.

"What contact are you allowed?" Daryl asked. "Can you text her? E-mail? Skype?"

"Only on her birthday and holidays. I'm allowed to send her a letter with the presents." Carol said, touching the screen. "I don't know if they even give them to her. She must think I don't care about her, that I just left her behind."

"We'll get her back, sweetheart; we will, I promise." Daryl did his best to reassure her.

"You don't know what they're like, Dix... what they can do... they _destroy_ people, ruin their businesses, their lives!" Carol said, pushing against his chest in protest, "This isn't your problem. I can't let you risk everything you've worked for."

" _Damn it_ , Caro—don't you see?" Daryl said, his hands taking hold of her upper arms to keep her in place, " _Nothin'_ I've worked for means anything without _you_."

Carol stared at him, shocked. He couldn't be saying what it sounded like he was saying...

"I know it's too soon... we just found each other again... but... I see this— _us_ — _goin'_ somewhere, Caro. Somewhere _good._ Do you?" Daryl searched her face, hoping for an affirmation of his feelings.

Carol knew she should just shut him down. Deny that she returned his feelings. Spare him dealing with the ugliness that was Edwin Pelletier Jr. and Sr.

"I don't know if there's enough left of me to start over, Dix." She told him, "I feel like everything I was before, my childhood, my innocence, was burned up by my father, and who I was forced to become when my mother took me away? She went up in smoke when I married Ed. Even now, after I got away from him, I'm standing outside the fire trying to get Sophia back. Every time I try to start over I just get _consumed_."

" _Hey_ , we ain't ashes." Daryl said gently but firmly, completely focused on her, serious and earnest and oh so wonderful. "I started over so many fucking times I lost track—we can do this—together."

" _Dix..."_ she smiled through her tears at how ready he was to do throw caution to the wind and just jump in head first to try and help her sort out her messy life.

Daryl put two fingers under her chin to kept eye contact with her when she would've looked away.

"Let me help you, please?" he asked her. "I'm here for you, Caro. Whatever you need."

"I think I believe you." She finally said with a big sigh, and he gave her an honest to goodness smile, not just one of his side of the mouth smirking grins, but a wide teeth showing broad smile that lit up his face with happiness, so beautiful it made her smile back and kiss him, feeling hopeful about the future for the first time in a long while.

* * *

Thanks for reading! And thank you to everyone who has the time to review. It really does keep us writers motivated. I'm trying to be better about reviewing what I read because I know how much better I feel knowing someone is taking this narrative journey along with me.


	9. Chapter 9:An Equal and Opposite Reaction

_After Carol and Daryl run into trouble when they try to have a dinner date they grow closer, but when she is summoned to the office of the CEO of Savior's Western Wear, something may threaten that bond._

 _AN: Sorry I haven't posted lately. I have had a ton of grading to do. Here's an extra-long chapter to make up for it!_

 _Rocky Mountain Oysters are deep fried breaded bull's testicles._

* * *

 **An Equal and Opposite Reaction**

" _For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction."_ Sir Isaac Newton, Third Law of Motion

 _This means that for every force there is a reaction force that is equal in size, but opposite in direction. Whenever an object pushes another object it gets pushed back in the opposite direction equally hard._

* * *

Daryl really needed to punch something or someone; preferably the fucker that had stolen Carol's little girl away from her, but since he wasn't in the vicinity, he'd settle for one of the convenient assholes who'd been giving Carol's new friend Olivia a hard time.

Carol had been somewhat shaken from their conversation where she'd bared her secrets to him, but had insisted she wanted to get out and enjoy the evening they'd planned together: their date. Pleased that she'd trusted him with her truth and wasn't pushing him away, Daryl had gladly agreed.

They'd gone out to dinner at the Fair, along the way meeting up with Abe, on his way to sling back a couple of brews at the Beer Garden. They'd also run into Shane, who was picking up barbeque to go for Lori, Rick and him.

"She had a rough day—feet all swoll up in the heat and she's hungry for burnt ends and onion rings of all things." Shane explained as they walked towards the midway, "Told her she'd be up all night with heart burn, but she told Rick n' me if I didn't get her some she'd just as soon make herself some Rocky Mountain Oysters with _our_ balls. He stayed with her and I'm supposed to hot foot it over to the Jaycees' tent and load up on—."

"Ain't that your friend Olivia?" Abe interrupted, pointing to the entrance of the barbecue tent. "One that works for you, Carol?"

They all looked to where he was indicating, and saw three disreputable looking good old boy locals blocking the doorway that Olivia was trying to go through. She looked upset, but was standing her ground.

"There a problem, boys?" Daryl asked his voice deceptively mild as he put himself between the men and Carol and then came right up on them, flanked by Abe and Shane.

"No business a'your's, belt buckle." the tallest of them said. Muscular and balding, his sneer topped by a thick moustache, he looked back and forth between Daryl and Olivia, sizing him up and seeming to find him wanting.

"You okay, hon?" Daryl asked as went to Olivia's side, putting his arm around her shoulders solicitously and ignoring the locals.

"I just wanted to get some supper," Olivia said softly, blinking back tears, "But they said they had a rule here, 'No fat chicks.'"

Daryl bristled and behind him he heard Carol's gasp of outrage and what sounded like growl from Abe.

"That so?" Daryl asked, his eyes narrowing dangerously as his right hand formed a fist.

"That's right. Only pigs in here are the ones in the smoker." the youngest, his pot belly protruding over his beltline, pulling his Monster Truck t-shirt tight, said with an arrogant thrust of his chin in Olivia's direction.

"But that fine looking red-headed piece a' hot pussy you got with you is _more_ than welcome." the third one, thin with long stringy brown hair and a pointed nose grinned, looking Carol up and down lasciviously.

"Why, you ignorant son of a—" Carol began, but Shane shook his head at her.

Daryl carefully put Olivia behind him.

"You need to apologize," Daryl said, his low tone laced with menace.

"What the hell for?" the skinny guy said, and then without warning he threw a punch, popping Daryl right in the mouth.

"Dix!" Carol cried out, trying to get to him, but she was blocked by both Abe and Shane.

"Last chance you ignorant cracker; _apologize._ " Daryl repeated, seemingly uncaring about the trickle of blood running down over his chin from his split lip.

With an inarticulate roar the skinny guy rushed him.

Daryl took the asshole down with one quick fist to his glass jaw.

"God damn it, get the hell up, Jarrod, you rat-faced prick!" the mustached man yelled, putting his fists up and taking a swing at Daryl, who ducked back like a prize fighter and then came in with a left handed kidney jab in response, doubling his opponent over.

Jarrod stayed down, groaning and holding his jaw.

"Get him, Simon!" the third man yelled and looked he was going to pile on to Daryl as well.

"Look out!" Carol warned.

Shane stepped forward, blocking the third man, putting his hand flat on the man's chest and shoving him back, while Abe kept his big body between the fight and Olivia and Carol.

Daryl continued to pound on the big man, Simon, but he staggered back with a low grunt when Simon threw a wild punch that connected, hard to the ribs on Daryl's left side.

" _No!"_ with that worried cry, Carol tried to push around Abe, but he gently took hold of her arm and held her back.

"Leave him be—he needs to do this." Abe told her.

"What?" Carol looked up at him, incredulous that he would just stand by and let Daryl get hurt.

"Look at him, Carol." Abe said. "He's defending you; you and Miss Olivia."

Carol focused her attention on Daryl's determined expression, the way his biceps bunched as he threw another punch, spitting blood after a blow snapped his head back and then _smiling_ with focused intent as he rose up and delivered a haymaker to the side of Simon's head that brought the mustached man to his knees where he hung briefly before toppling over face first.

A cheer went up from the small crowd that had gathered to watch the fight.

"You apologize to these women—fuck it, to _all_ women," Daryl ground out, breathing hard, looking at all three men, "For your ignorant _bullshit_. They deserve your _respect._ "

"What the hell is goin' on out here?" an older man came out of the tent, looked at the scene in front of him and then shook his head and rolled his eyes, disgusted by what he saw.

"These assholes disrespected our friends." Daryl said, wiping the blood out of the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, "I was using Newton's Third Law to encourage them to make amends."

"What th'everlovion' fuck is he talking' about?" Jarrod whined.

"You push him, he pushes back," the new man explained with a snort and then looked at Daryl a bit more respectfully, "You always 'encourage' people with your fists and physics?" The new man asked sardonically.

"When they sucker punch me first, usually, yeah." Daryl said laconically, using his tongue to probe the split in his lip and wincing a bit.

"He started it, Gavin!" The skinny long-haired man whined as he stared daggers at Daryl from his place on the ground. "Insulted me."

"After you used some _mighty_ foul language to talk about his woman." Shane said in a slow drawl.

"Didn't know she was _his_ bitch, Gavin!" Jarrod muttered, his voice surly.

"Get the hell up, Jarrod." Gavin ordered, "Apologize to the ladies and then you and Fat Joey pick up Simon's sorry ass and start walking, you're all _fired_."

"You can't fire us!" Joey whined. "My daddy will—"

"Your daddy will kick your ass across the county if I tell him what you did. You were hired to be bouncers in case some stupid drunk assed rodeo cowboys got rowdy, not to vet the women comin' in." Gavin said forcefully, "You fucked up. Now apologize and get out."

Grumbling the whole time, Jarrod got up and he and Joey apologized to Olivia and Carol, who had knelt to check on Simon. He started to come around enough for the other two to drag him up onto his feet.

As they watched the fired bouncers retreat, Gavin held out his hand to Daryl, offering his own apology.

"I hope this hasn't soured you on our fair community, Mr. Dixon. I knew I was scraping the bottom of the barrel a bit hiring those three, but good help's hard to find around here this time of year with everyone caught up in enjoying themselves competing in or just visiting the Fair." he said, shaking Daryl's hand firmly. "I hope you'll let me offer you some of our delicious barbecue and brew, on the house of course."

Daryl looked back to see what the rest of the group wanted to do. No one objected, but Carol frowned at Daryl.

"We'd appreciate that... Gavin was it?" Daryl agreed, though he looked curious as to how the man knew his name.

"I saw your winning ride, Mr. Dixon—impressive! I'm Gavin St. Charles—president of the Akin County Jaycees and pit master—come on in and I'll get you a table and some nice cold beers."

"Now you're talkin!" Abe said, cheerfully striding forward to introduce himself and shake hands with Gavin. Daryl introduced the others as well and then Abe offered his arm to Olivia to escort her in, but she stopped first and kissed Daryl on the cheek and told him thank you before she took it. Shane asked Gavin about take-out as they walked in, leaving Carol and Daryl alone outside the door.

"You'll need ice for that hand and your mouth." Carol said, her voice clinical, coming up beside Daryl who stood and waited for her.

"Nah—don't hurt. Been bashed and smashed so many times, just goes numb when it happens again." Daryl told her, alternating forming a fist and shaking out his right hand with its scraped knuckles on top of the bruises already there from his ride earlier.

"Ice will keep the swelling down." Carol insisted, frowning at him and lifting her hand to brush her thumb over his already puffy lip.

"You mad, Caro?" Daryl asked, frowning back, capturing her hand with his.

"I can take care of myself, Dix."Carol said flatly. "I've been doing it for awhile now."

"Well... I was helpin' Olivia too," Daryl protested. Didn't she know how absolutely crazy he was about her? How he had the overwhelming need to protect her from the crass assholes he'd just vanquished and anyone else who might try to harm her by word or deed?

"Well, _I_ just don't see the need to hit people." Carol said, her mouth still turned down, looking away.

"Guess I don't do 'turn the other cheek' very well." Daryl shrugged, and then his eyes narrowed. He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed it softly, "But I would _never_ touch you in anger. I never would." he said, in response to her unasked question, keeping hold of her hand, lightly rubbing her fingertips over his numbed lips.

After the discussion they'd just had it was important to him that she believed him without any doubts. They'd both had violence in their lives that had damaged them, not just physically. He knew that seeing him use it, even in her defense, was hard for her.

Carol searched his face and saw only sincerity there.

"It really doesn't hurt?" she asked him with a sigh, the casually intimacy of his soft slightly chapped lips against her sensitive finger tips making her breath catch.

"Nah—like I said, just sort of numb." Daryl said, his eyes falling to her mouth and then moving back to her beautiful blues, her expressive brows slightly furrowed above them. Still worried he'd overstepped or frightened her, he frowned, "We okay?"

Carol gave him a thoughtful sort of little smile and nodded her head up and down just enough to let him know they were.

* * *

One Week Later

"Michonne?" Carol said sleepily into her cell,which she grabbed off the shelf above the bed, trying to blink her eyes clear enough to see the time. "It's freakin' 5:45 in the _a.m_.!"

"Sorry to call so early, but if you're going to make this meeting, you'll need to be on the road by seven." Her boss said crisply.

"What meeting?" Carol frowned. She didn't recall a meeting being scheduled.

"Mr. Negan wants you there for a one o'clock today."

"Can't I just Skype in like usual?" Carol asked, annoyed.

Negan had been insisting on a lot of meetings lately. The way the team was winning boded well for the campaign and he'd been making noises about adding even more competitors to the roster. He wanted detailed reports from Carol about everything she was learning about rodeo events and the team members by being on the road with them, and apparently now wasn't satisfied with just texting or Skype meetings.

"Nope—wants to talk to you in person. Says he wants to show you the preliminary reel for each of the team members and wants to see your reactions. He's also made a decision about who he wants to add to the team."

"Well, his timing sucks." Carol groused. "We were supposed to have a free day here before we left for La Grange."

"That's probably why he knew you could make this meeting." Michonne chuckled, "You know he follows the rodeo schedule now. You'll just have to tell your sexy bull rider you have to work."

"I'll be there by one." Carol sighed.

"Drive safe." Michonne chuckled again and hung up.

Carol stretched her arms above her head and then tossed her phone back on the shelf. When she lowered them, she placed them over top of the bare muscular male ones holding her from the big spoon position behind her.

"You heard?' she asked as Daryl nuzzled his head into the hollow between her head and shoulder and started kissing her neck.

"That you're leavin' me?" Daryl grumbled. They'd only gotten to sleep a couple of hours ago after a fun night around the campfire with their friends and had planned on relaxing today. They'd crashed back at his trailer, falling fast asleep after a little necking.

That had been their regular routine for the last few nights, sometimes in her rig and sometimes in his. They were still taking things slow, but were fast becoming used to spending their nights together. If anyone had told him that he'd be content just sharing a bed with a sexy-ass woman that he wanted this bad he'd have told them they were crazy, but he knew that last step, that final intimacy was something that as much as she desired it, also frightened her.

After the horrors of her childhood, her husband had been the only man she had ever _chosen_ to have sex with, and it had resulted in a surprise pregnancy and rushed marriage to a man who had turned out to be a terrible choice.

Things were so good between them now Daryl didn't want to do anything to push her before she was ready. What had happened between them on the day she first told him about Sophia was as far as they had gone, and he had backed off since then.

"That she called you my _sexy_ bull rider." Carol teased, shivering a bit from the bristle brush of his scruffy cheeks and chin against her soft skin.

"Well, I _am_ a bull rider and I–uh—pretty much _am_..." he drawled, but then paused, chewing on the inside of his lips, hesitant, _"You know..."_

Carol raised up so she could look down at him, sprawled on the pillow they'd been sharing, looking at her shyly from behind his bangs.

"Sexy?" she smiled through her frown, thinking he was embarrassed that Michonne had called him that.

"Nah... I'm... pretty much _yours._ " Daryl breathed and slowly raised his eyes to meet hers.

Carol's eyes widened and filled, overcome with emotion.

"So what time you gotta be up and out?" he said quickly, breaking the moment, worried he'd gone too far, "We got time to screw around a little?"

"What'd you have in mind, cowboy?" Carol got control of herself, sniffing back any tears that still threatened and smiling down at him.

"Little over the clothes action, lotta face suckin', then maybe some _under_ the—uh—Caro?" he stopped because suddenly her lips were pressed to his right ear and her mouth opened over it, teeth gripped it, tongue lashed it and his morning wood sprung to full attention.

" _Shhh."_ She said, and the soft heat of her voice at his ear set the rest of his nerve endings on fire. Her hands gliding over his shoulders and down to his bare chest, tweaking his erect nipples made him groan.

"Long as you keep doin' what you're doin' my lips are sealed." he growled, contradicting himself by speaking.

Carol's hands continued on down, warm and soft, firm and supple over his belly. Her mouth moved to his, giving his lower lip a little nip before caressing it with her tongue, languidly licking before pushing in and meeting his kiss.

When she reached the elastic of his sweats she ran her index fingers along it, trailing a path on his waist. He felt his dick rise further, pushing up, seeking her touch as she deepened the kiss. Her right hand closed over him through the warm cotton and he broke the kiss to gasp and look into her eyes.

Maintaining eye contact with him, she started kissing her way down his body, releasing her grip to use her hands to tug at the waist of his sweats to pull them lower off his hips.

" _Caro?"_ Daryl asked, realizing her hands were shaking.

She looked up at him, her cheeks flushed, lips swollen, eyes glittering, breath coming faster; biting her lower lip, she swallowed hard and that little vertical crease appeared between her brows.

He wasn't sure if the way she was looking at him was passion or _fear_ and that stopped him cold.

"You don't have to." He said quietly, pulling on the waistband of his sweats to ease them back up, wincing a little as they grazed his still prominent erection.

"But you're..." she said, glancing down, "...and _you_ did... for me..."

"Don't mean you gotta. I ain't like that." he told her, "Not if it's scary or you don't like it or whatever."

"But that isn't fair... to you" She said, shaking her head at him, not understanding.

"Ain't about fair, sweetheart. It's about what you're ready for, what you're comfortable with." Daryl said gently, "Don't do somethin' you hate just because you think I need payback for what I've done for you."

Carol stared at him, frowning, unsure if she could believe him.

"We have to be honest about this stuff, right? Do I want you touchin' n' kissin' me there? Yeah. _Hell_ yeah. Feels good and I like to feel good. But if you got forced to do it other times and it _wasn't_ good for you, I totally get that you don't want to." Daryl told her, taking her hands in his, "I like doing for you, making you feel good makes me feel good too."

"I wish I could feel that way." Carol whispered, "I'm sorry I'm so useless at this."

Daryl took her hands and placed them back on his chest, holding them there while he talked.

"How 'bout you try touchin' me—anywhere but _there_ —worrying about _there's_ where you seemed to start to freak a bit." He requested. "And I could use some more kisses too, before you take off and leave me for the day." He raised up off the pillow, puckering up in an almost comical manner, making her give a little snort.

Carol leaned in to capture his lips with hers, wondering how she had ever gotten so lucky to find he'd remained the same wonderful understanding man as he had been to her as a boy all those years ago.

* * *

1:00 p.m., Savior's Western Wear Offices, Sanctuary Building

Amber, the secretary that showed her into Mr. Negan's office was a pretty blonde, hair perfectly styled, dressed in a tailored chic looking blouse and pencil skirt with very high heels. She fit the expensive looking surroundings, all over sized furniture in leather and dark wood, with Remington bronzes and other western art, like a robber baron's hunting lodge.

"Can I get you something?" Amber asked as she opened the door, not bothering to list off what was available. Carol knew from her previous visits pretty much anything she could possibly want was there for the asking. Maybe not lobster, unless it was already on the lunch menu, but probably anything else.

"I'm fine, thank you, Amber." Carol made it a point to use the woman's name. She'd noticed Negan usually just called all of the women in his office by some form of 'honey.'

"I need a freshen up, hon." Negan said, not looking up from his computer, lifting his coffee cup.

Carol saw that there was coffee carafe on the credenza to his right. All he had to do was stand up to get it.

Amber's mouth tightened, but did as she was bidden, filling it to the rim and then returning the carafe to the credenza top.

"Thanks, honey." Negan said, raising the mug in salute, dismissing her and turning his attention to Carol.

"Amber." Carol nodded, repeating her name as a goodbye.

Amber gave Carol an apologetic small smile and then turned and left.

Negan very obviously focused on her ass as she did so.

Carol saw several photos of his wife and he on the wall behind him, both dressed to the nines in Savior's Western Wear apparel, posing with a variety of famous people, from country music and rodeo stars to several more conservative politicians, including a new one of them with the president at his recent inauguration. She tried to hide her grimace.

"Good to see you again, Ms. Pelletier—Carol—I can call you Carol, can't I? We're working so closely together on this DD line." Negan asked, pouring on the charm.

Carol forced a calm smile. Maybe he'd noticed her use of Amber's name after all.

"That is my name." was her reply.

Negan chose not to push it.

"I'm pretty excited about the way our video bios are turning out; let me put the first one up on the screen for you so I can get your ideas on it." he said and then motioned her to the chair in front of his desk. He pushed a remote and a screen came down from the ceiling covering about half the side wall of the office. Then he clicked his PC mouse and a video began to play.

The camera panned across a cemetery until it reached three gravestones: Ellen Ford, beloved wife; A.J., son and Becca, daughter.

The graves were side by side, same date of death, the newspaper article describing the accident that had taken their lives flashed on screen long enough for the names to be matched, the narration describing how Abe returned there to visit the graves whenever he had a few days off and was close enough to make the trip.

A still picture of him with Daryl and Rosita at the funeral and then a few seconds of Daryl acting as his hazer while the narration discussed their friendship and some recent footage of Abe's second place finish at the last rodeo to show how well he was doing now, moving past his "survivor's guilt" finished the sequence.

"How could you?" Carol asked, appalled at the video.

"This is what we wanted, Carol—you knew that." Negan said easily, "We chose these people for a reason. Ford just needs to continue to finish in the money a few more times and then you can offer him the same deal as the others."

"But these are private things— _painful_ things—they shouldn't be part of an advertising campaign."

"It's called _pathos_ , Carol. And they all signed the waivers as part of their contracts. We have the rights to their life stories to be used as part of the Denim Dreams marketing."

"Their _rodeo_ stories; not this kind of thing!" Carol protested angrily. "This will _hurt_ people."

"Hurt your _boyfriend_ , you mean." Negan arched an eyebrow at her, and leaned over the PC to call up another video file, which he spoke over, "His story is _gold_ , girl! How he overcame the murder of his mother by his own father?"

On the screen appeared a cheap Wal-Mart style posed family portrait of Daryl with Merle and their parents, then a picture of him competing in mutton busting and calf riding as a little boy, followed by newspaper headlines about the house fire in which his mother had died and the arrest of his father.

"He survived it all and rose to success as a Bull rider, only to lose a child, destroying his marriage to the beautiful EMT." Footage of him in the winner's circle, a Las Vegas wedding photo of him and Rosita and then a short clip of a broodingly serious Daryl unwrapping his taped hands after a ride, squinting as he looked up at the leader board to check his score, then the camera panning back down, revealing the pale line on his tanned hand where his wedding ring should have been.

"Drowning himself in booze and bar hook-ups to deaden the pain, dropping out of contention in the standings, but after years of struggle he makes it back on top, only to have a potentially career ending injury? Then like a phoenix rising from the ashes, he beat the odds to recover from that after six hard months of rehab."

"How can you know..." she whispered. The edited footage told the true story, but it was manipulative and sensationalistic.

"My investigators are _very_ thorough." he said with a knowing look that said he knew the _rest_ of Daryl's secrets as well. Like why he never appeared in public without a shirt.

Negan pushed the button to continue the playback and it was film she didn't know had been captured, images of her and Daryl, holding hands, smiling, their heads close together, and then one of her laughing and talking with little Hershel, Daryl watching them while she was unaware of it, the look of utter devotion on his face making her throat go tight.

"And now? Finding his childhood sweetheart again?" Negan chuckled low and slow, "You add such a sweet romantic potential to the mix and even the jealous fan girls who like to look at _his_ ass in _our_ jeans will ship it. You play ball and there's a happy ending in it for you too."

"That's enough." Carol said, pulling out her phone. "I won't let you exploit my friends like this. I'm calling Michonne."

"Even if I can offer you your heart's desire?" Negan asked her.

"You have no influence over Dix..." she denied, pulling up her directory.

"I think your cowboy's already a done deal, that's not who I meant." Negan said mildly as he leaned close. "You don't want your daughter back then?"

"What?" she let her finger slide off the icon for dialing and took a step back from his looming invasion into her space.

"You convince your friends that this campaign is the best way to go and I'll have _my_ expensive as shit New York lawyers file a motion so you can take your ex-husband to court to win full custody of—what's her name again? Oh that's right, _Sophia_." he told her with a smarmy grin.

"You can't promise me that." Carol said, her stomach about to make her lose her breakfast. If he knew about Sophia, did he know about her _reasons_ for leaving her husband? About Ed's abuse _?_

 _Dear God. Her father's?_

"My New York lawyers say I can." he returned confidently. "And without any messy... _publicity_ for you and your little girl."

This time the grin was broad and smug.

 _Oh, he knew._

 _So that was her choice._

 _Let Negan bare the personal lives of her friends and the man she could be falling in love with for the almighty dollar or let him expose her own sordid past and possibly lose Sophia._

"I'll give you a few days to think about it. Sell your cowboy on it and he'll probably help you win over the others. We got all kinds of colorful shit on them too. You sure picked an _interesting_ team, Carol." Negan looked at his watch and then gave her a little two fingered salute as he stood, grabbed his Stetson off the shelf behind him, placed it on his head and strode to the door.

"I hate to be abrupt, but I have a batting cage reserved for the rest of the afternoon—better than golfing for business meetings—like to see a man's swing, if you know what I mean." He chuckled.

"Of... of course..." Carol stood, feeling a bit unsteady. She actually had no idea what he meant, still reeling from his thinly veiled threats.

"We'll talk when I see you next weekend. I'll be heading out to Amarillo for the next PRCA qualifier—looks to be a great group of competitors and some amazing rough stock." He said enthusiastically. "Have a great week, Carol. You can see yourself out."

And then he was striding out of the room, leaving her standing there in his oversize office with its oversize furnishings, staring after him, wondering how the hell she was supposed to react to _this._

* * *

 _My rogue's gallery at the barbecue was pulled from TWD: Gavin is the Negan henchman in charge of the collections at the Kingdom, Jarrod is the minion who shot Benjamin, Simon is the one who collects from Alexandria and of course Fat Joey is the one Daryl killed on his way out of Sanctuary._

 _I read in an interview once that NR's very bad car accident in Berlin in 2005, when he went head first through a wind shield, left some of the nerves in his face numbed and he has a habit of taking the hand of his girlfriend du jour and running their fingertips over his lips, sometimes even poking their nails in because it feels good to him. I borrowed that for this version of Daryl._

 _And yes, for you BTVS fans' in honor of the 20_ _th_ _Anniversary, the scene where Daryl tells Carol "I am you know, yours..." was based on the one where Tara says the same to Willow._


	10. Chapter 10: Beautiful Disaster

_Inadvertent observations of their friends yields some surprises for Carol and Daryl while she tries to figure out how to deal with Negan's bombshell edict about the Denim Dreams PR campaign._

 _Thank you to everyone who nominated this story for the_ _Caryl Daily's 3rd annual Caryl Fanfic Awards_ _! I am honored._

* * *

Beautiful Disaster

The after-hours campfire party was in full swing by the time Carol got back to the rodeo grounds that night. She leaned back against her car, fighting the stress and fatigue headache that was trying to throb her eyeballs out of her head and watched them laughing, talking and dancing to the strains of some female country singer's throaty voice lamenting her lot in life.

She'd spent the afternoon meeting with Michonne and Andrea, trying to figure out if there was anything to be done about Negan's demand that she smooth things over with the Denim Dreams team. The extremely personal and revealing direction in which he wanted the PR campaign to go was a nightmare, but unfortunately short of quitting her much needed job, there was little she could do to avoid following his edict.

The contract that Michonne had signed was clear that he had the final say in decisions on the specifics of the publicity she was designing for his company. If she tried to back out, she forfeited the retainer she'd already been paid and any future possibility of working with any of his companies again. Bless her, Michonne had been ready to pull the plug, but Carol knew how much the Negan company accounts were worth to the business and wouldn't allow it.

A movement at the door to the Grimes' rig caught Carol's eye. Lori was standing in the doorway with Rick while Shane started down the steps, but then she raised her hands and put them on her hips in a put upon gesture matching her expression. Shane turned and went back up the steps so he could lean up to give her a lingering kiss good bye and then Carol's mouth dropped open when he did the same to Rick, holding his face in his hands tenderly, Rick's hand gripping Shane's nape, with Lori smiling in satisfaction as she watched them. After one more quick kiss and tummy rub for Lori, Shane continued down the steps and Rick put his arm around Lori's shoulders to usher her inside as she stifled a yawn.

Spotting Carol at her car, Shane waved with a grin and ambled over.

Carol blushed, damning her inability to hide her embarrassment at accidentally observing the intimate moment between the men, something she hadn't seen before.

"You're back." Shane called out as he neared. "Dix said the big boss called ya in—that's a lotta driving in one day—you must be bushed."

"Yep." Carol said with a strained smile, straightening from her slouch against the car door, her eyes down on her hands fiddling with her car keys.

"I'm headin' over to the campfire. Rick's got paperwork to do and Lori's wiped out so she's hittin' the hay, but I'm still pretty wired." He told her, and then he gave her a flirty grin, "Maybe if I could get some pretty hometown girl to have a couple a shots n'dance with me I'd mellow out enough to—" but then he paused, realizing she hadn't looked up at him the whole time he'd been talking to her. He frowned and looked back towards his rig, realizing what she must have seen.

"You look a little freaked out there, sweetheart." He said gently, looking back at her and leaning closer.

Carol's head came up, looking back at him guiltily.

"You saw... something you didn't expect to see." Shane said tightly, as if resigned to her disapproval. "I figured Dix told you we're together, but maybe not just _how_ _much_ together..." he sighed, "Go ahead and ask what you're dying to ask. You wouldn't be the first. "

"It's none of my business." Carol said, with a sympathetic frown, then her mouth firmed into a resolute line. "As long as no one's getting hurt and you're all happy, _fuck_ what anyone else says."

Shane blinked in surprise then grinned.

"You really mean that, don't you?" he asked her, narrowing his eyes.

"Love is love." Carol said, tilting her head at him and giving a sad little smile. She was glad that the two ropers weren't on the DD team. She could just imagine what Negan would do with this story. Polyamory? Male lovers? Not real big in rodeo country.

"We don't broadcast our relationship on the circuit—even the people that know about the three of us don't know about, well, the _three of us_ —what you saw tonight—Rick n' me." He said, squinting up at her, "Thought everyone was over at the campfire..."

"You're both really with Lori too?" Carol had to ask, suddenly worried for her friend.

"She ain't just our beard, if that's what you're askin'." Shane said staunchly. "We love her. And Rick n' me—we only ever been with each other, no other guys—all our lives. We just all needed to be together, every way we could, since we met."

"You're in love... all of you..." Carol said sincerely, "I think it's beautiful... sharing that much love." it was something she hadn't witnessed a lot of in her life.

"Lotta people around here wouldn't agree with you on that." Shane said carefully.

"You can trust me." Carol told him, feeling the irony. Her job was forcing her to exploit the secrets of the others, but at least she could keep _this_ one for _these_ friends.

Shane studied her face, deciding if he could believe her. After a long pause he nodded and stuck out his elbow in invitation.

"Okay, fancy face—let's dance."

Carol smiled and wound her arm through his and let him lead her to the fire.

* * *

Daryl was trying to teach Olivia how to two step when he saw Carol approaching with Shane. When they got close enough the roper drew Carol into his arms in dance position and they joined in the fray, Shane showing some fancy footwork that his less experienced partner worked hard to follow. When they made it to the other side of the fire Shane spun Carol away and stepped in to take Olivia's hand, pulling her out of Daryl's grasp and into his in a smooth move that had them all laughing.

Carol looked a little dizzy as she smiled up at Daryl.

He'd missed her so god damned much today that it had been an empty ache in his chest. He'd missed her every day of the last twenty years, but he'd managed, survived without her because he'd never expected to see her again. Now? Having her close? Holding her at night, learning her, mind, body and soul? How could he... what would he do if she just wanted to leave him at the end of the year?

Daryl pushed down his worry and just let himself enjoy taking her in his arms, leading her through the intricate dance moves like the expert he was. His strength and athleticism in the arena translated into light and steady on his feet in the dance. She was still wearing "professional" clothes, heels and a skirt which flowed around her long legs as her lovely ass swayed to the beat.

The music flowed into the next song—a slow dance one—an old Kelly Clarkson track. Daryl shifted them into slow dance mode, her head resting against his shoulder, bodies pressed closely together.

 _He drowns in his dreams  
an exquisite extreme I know.  
He's as damned as he seems  
and more heaven than a heart could hold...  
And if I try to save him  
my whole world could cave in;  
it just ain't right.  
It just ain't right_.

"How was your meetin'?" Daryl asked, solicitous.

Carol raised her head to look at him and he saw a fleeting look of sadness enter her eyes before she shook it off with a slight toss of her head and what looked like a forced smile replaced it.

"Done with work for the day. Don't want to think about it." she told him, looking away evasively even as she tightened her hold around his neck, "Don't really want to think at all..." and then she looked back at him, challenge in her eyes, "You think you can help me with that?"

Daryl narrowed his eyes at her, but then lowered his lips to hers for a light kiss that she welcomed and deepened.

 _Oh and I don't know what he's after  
but he's so beautiful  
such a beautiful disaster...  
and if I could hold on  
through the tears and the laughter  
would it be beautiful?  
Or just a beautiful disaster?_

He felt her clinging to him, her fingers threading through his hair, gripping it tightly, breasts pressing into his chest, mouth hot and demanding more, surprising him with her urgency. He gripped the soft cloth of the back of her blouse, fisting it in his hands and felt the heat of her lower body practically plastered to his, causing a combustible reaction.

A low mocking whistle and a cat call of "Get a room!" from someone else around the fire had him easing away from her and looking down into her face with equal parts desire and concern.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Gotta be." She said, with a totally unconvincing smile. "Can we go now?" her fingers were still in his hair, sifting through the strands at his nape, her eyes wide, lips swollen from his kisses: total temptation.

 _He's magic and myth  
as strong as what I believe,  
a tragedy with more damage  
than a soul should see...  
And do I try to change him?  
So hard not to blame him.  
Hold on tight  
Hold on tight_.

"We're callin' it a night." Daryl called to the group in general, shifting so he had his arm around Carol's shoulders.

"Still heading out at zero-six-hundred tomorrow?" Abe asked, turning down the music and giving the couple a speculative look as if he expected that they might be a bit too _tired_ to rise so early in the morning the next day. They all parked their respective RVs far enough apart to guarantee as much privacy as possible at night, but everyone knew that Daryl and Carol each having their own rig had been a waste of resources for the last couple of weeks. They hadn't officially moved in together, but they hadn't spent a night apart in that time either.

"We... um... we need to have a team meeting tomorrow..." Carol spoke haltingly, as if she didn't want to, but was forced.

"Can't we do that when we get to the venue?" Maggie asked, frowning at Carol. That was how they usually arranged the day. Once everyone was off the black top and had their camps set up, they would gather at Carol's rig to go over any business details she needed to share.

"Oh... sure that's fine. We'll do that." Carol agreed in a rush, nodding and then smiling that fake smile again before raising her hand and waving. "Good night everyone."

"Night." Daryl echoed, but he was frowning at Carol as well as she took a step forward, almost moving out from under his arm.

Abe chuckled, obviously thinking Carol was just in a rush to be alone with Daryl, but sensing there was more to it than that, Daryl tightened his grip and fell into step with her, a look of concern on his face.

"You go—we'll clean up." Maggie told them.

Their departure signaled the end of the evening for the rest as well. Shane started dousing the fire while Maggie and Olivia started gathering up the empties and other trash and Abe helped Glenn stow the beer and soda back in the ice filled cooler.

"How long you think they been bumpin' uglies?" Abe asked, watching Daryl and Carol walk away.

"None of my business." Glenn said with a shrug, but caught Maggie's eye and the couple grinned at each other knowingly.

"They seem happy." Shane said, stomping out some still glowing embers, "Sure as hell makes this life easier knowing you're traveling with someone who cares about you."

"Lucky bastards, all a' ya." Abe grumped, as he hoisted the heavy cooler up in his arms, raising it to his shoulder and reaching for the two half full black plastic trash bags Olivia was holding. "I'll take that, darlin'."

Olivia was caught staring at Abe's formidable biceps and blushed, almost dropping the trash bags.

"That's okay—I've got it." she said, waving him off before awkwardly pushing up her glasses with her shoulder and upper arm, "The dumpsters are on my way to the parking lot."

She was staying at a nearby local motel. Not an official part of the DD Rodeo Team, just retail, she didn't get an RV berth like the others.

"Can't have you walkin' there all alone." Abe frowned, his cowboy code of honor activated.

"Cooler's ours, Abe. I can take it." Maggie said, beckoning for him to put it down. When he did she walked over and pulled out the telescoping handle, lifting it, so it easily pulled behind her on the inset wheels.

" _Shit."_ Abe said with a snort, wiping his hand down over his mouth and mustache in embarrassment.

"Just how much _did_ you have to drink?" Maggie asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Two beers is all." Abe said, defensively gesturing at the cooler. "I just didn't know it did that."

Maggie's giggle was matched by Glenn and Shane's chuckles as they headed for their rigs and waved a cheery goodbye to Abe and Olivia.

"I'll take that, little lady." Abe said, holding out his hand for the trash bags.

Olivia clung to them, her hands shaking a little, her eyes wide.

Abe frowned at her— _What the hell? Was she scared to be left alone with him?_

"Hey, it's okay. I don't bite... _much_..." he winked at her, holding out both his hands palms up to show he was harmless.

Olivia dropped the trash bags and launched herself at him, her lips meeting his in a passionate but inexpert kiss.

Abe's arms went around her, surprised, but not at all unwelcoming. If he didn't know that she'd stuck to soda all night because she had to drive back to her motel, he might've thought she was acting on a tipsy impulse. What he _did_ think is that she was cute as hell, but too shy to be open to anything more than gentle flirtation from him. He generally preferred his women to be the real obvious sort, tightly wound and highly sexed buckle bunnies with wandering hands, a full box of condoms in their big ass purses and enough notches on their belt to rival his.

This sweet, shy, smart little gal with her soft pillowy breasts and lush ass was a different sort of woman altogether.

Still not quite sure how to respond, Abe didn't really kiss her back, but neither did he release her.

Olivia pulled back, her hands on his biceps, looking up at him in confusion that quickly turned to mortification when she saw his frown.

"Let me go." she said breathlessly, moving her hands over to push against his chest.

"Now hold on, you don't just go around kissin' people like that n' then run away." Abe admonished.

"You do if they don't _want_ you to." Olivia replied miserably.

"What makes you think I don't want you to?" he asked, raising an inquisitive brow at her.

"You didn't kiss me back." she looked away, tears forming.

"Well, you kinda caught me off guard there." he said gently, "Thought I was getting the empties to haul to recycling and instead I get an armful of warm willin' woman!"

Olivia quickly looked back at him, frowning with a bit of a wary edge to it.

"Now let's try that again, shall we?" Abe said in quiet invitation, his right hand coming up to hold her chin, tilting her head slightly to the side so he could fit his mouth to hers. This time she let him lead, responding to the gentle movement of his lips over hers with a soft sigh. When he licked and probed with the tip of his tongue, asking for permission to delve inside, she opened her mouth and her hands gripped his shirt so tightly a snap popped open and her fingers slid inside to touch his chest.

With a groan, Abe felt himself snap to immediate hardness. Her sweet tasting mouth welcomed the thrust of his tongue meeting hers and he used his free hand to grab a handful of her ass to haul her closer.

Abe's head reeled... _Well, fuck all, that just went from zero to a hundred in record time..._

Olivia broke the kiss, gazing up at him owl-eyed, glasses fogged and askew, but then a look of determination came over her face.

"They went to _his_ place." she told him. "Daryl and Carol."

Abe stared at her, perplexed at the non-sequitor.

"I have the spare keys to Carol's rig." she said, "She said I could stay there any time."

"All right." Abe said slowly, nodding at her, "You head on over there, then. I still got the trash to take care of..."

Olivia frowned at him.

"I want you to come _with_ me." she said, her fingers worrying the material of his shirt.

Abe chuckled and gave her another quick kiss.

"Soon as I take care of the trash." he said carefully, "Thought you might need some time to... you know... get ready?"

"Oh! Oh—you were being a gentleman." she smiled at him happily.

"Much as I'm able." he grunted with a grin, kissing the tip of her nose and then releasing her so he could straighten her glasses.

"Abraham? We are going to have sex, right?" she asked him, biting her lower lip and pushing her disheveled hair back behind her ears.

"Yes, Miss Olivia." Abe assured her solemnly. "Now you git. I'll be there shortly."

Smiling with barely suppressed excitement, Olivia headed for Carol's RV.

Abe watched her go, waiting to see if his head overruled his dick. Screwing around with a woman like Olivia, one that he wouldn't be bidding goodbye to in the morning as he rolled down the black top to the next town, one he'd be seeing every day, one whose kisses practically screamed her innocence, one who was friends with the woman seeing _his_ best friend? This wasn't just complicated; this had all the ear marks of a god damned disaster.

He should just drop off the trash and head straight to his car. Hit a dive bar and pick up a one night stand and bang her brains out. Or maybe he should just grab his shit from the motel and drive all night until he was in the next town on the circuit. Or maybe he should hit a couple of PBA rodeos—side step the whole issue—send Dixon a text telling him he found a new hazer on the other circuit and...

 _Wait, why was he getting so freaked?_ This didn't have to be awkward. He'd give her a great night, but be clear that's all it was: a one off. No complications, no obligations. Be grownups about it. It was just sex, probably damn good sex, possibly _mind_ blowing sex...

Oh, who the hell was he kidding? His dick hadn't responded like that to a woman in longer than he could recall. _What the entire fuck?_ Sweet little curvy innocent Olivia _totally_ turned him on. He admired her independence; she hadn't backed down from those bullies at the barbecue even though she'd been scared, and her willingness to put herself out there even while expecting him to reject her took guts. He was still hard as a rock, _throbbing_ even at the thought of being with her...

"I am _so_ fucked _."_ Abraham muttered, checking his pockets for condoms and then grabbing up the trash bags, he headed for the dumpster.

* * *

"Well, _that_ was unexpected." Daryl said, letting the curtain of the window facing the smoldering campfire fall back into place.

"You need to go talk to him... he must have hurt her feelings..." Carol said in a harsh whisper. "She's so upset she's going to go hide out in my camper!"

"I'm not letting him know we were spying on them." Daryl scoffed. They couldn't hear what had been said, and had only been witnesses by mistake when he had looked out the door window to see if everyone had cleared out from around the fire before locking up. His sharp grunt of surprise when he saw Abe in a clinch with Olivia brought Carol over to join him.

They watched the scene unfold, but then when Olivia left while Abe stayed behind and then eventually grabbed up the garbage bags and headed for the dumpsters, Carol made a little sad sound of empathy. Olivia headed for the RV parked next door, pulled out a key and let herself in.

"He's heading for the dumpsters in the parking lot—then his car and the motel—I'll talk to him in the morning–warn him off." Daryl promised Carol, moving behind her and putting his hands on her hips. When she stiffened at his touch he opened his mouth to ask her what was bothering her, but she spoke first.

"Um—maybe _not_." she responded.

Daryl leaned close to look over her shoulder and saw Abe return to the fire pit, check it to make sure it was all the way out and then after a minute spent staring at Carol's RV he dug in his shirt pocket, pulled out a roll of wintergreen lifesavers and popped one in his mouth. As he returned the roll to his pocket he smoothed down his big handlebar moustache and took a step forward, heading straight for the place where Olivia waited.

Abe got to the door, knocked and waited for it to open. When it did, a big smile of anticipation lit up his face, but he waited again to be invited in.

Daryl chuckled when Olivia pulled Ford inside by his shirt front and shut the door.

Carol ducked away from Daryl's hands and whirled on him.

"It's not funny!" she said, sounding upset, "She can't trust him! He'll hurt her! He's a player! A rodeo Romeo with a heartbreak past!"

Daryl's head went back as if she'd struck him.

"Like me, you mean?" he asked, his eyes narrowing.

"What? Dix, _no_." Carol said quickly, realizing how what she'd said about Abe would've sounded to Daryl. Her fear about Negan's plans to publicize both their pasts had brought it all too close to the surface and she wasn't dealing with it well at all.

"You still don't trust me, do you?" he asked her, backing away when she reached for him, hurt showing in his eyes.

"I trust you. _I do."_ Carol said adamantly, but there was still fear underlying her declaration.

"Enough to tell me why you came back from your meeting today actin' like a skittish doe?" Daryl asked her, scanning her face.

"It's... it's bad... really bad..." she choked out, starting to fall apart right in front of him.

Daryl immediately came to her, taking her in his arms and holding her tight.

"We'll figure it out. We will." he nodded, lowering his head so his lips were pressed against her shoulder, lending her his strength, so strong and sure of himself that she almost believed him.

* * *

 _Beautiful Disaster,_ by writers Rebekah Jordan and Matthew Wilder, is from Kelly Clarkson's debut studio album, _Thankful_ (2003).

Olivia and Abe? What? My Muse threw out the idea and it pleased me. She's much more like his late wife than the kind of women he's been numbing himself with.

Thanks for reading!


	11. Chapter 11: A Damn Romance Novel

_A Damn Romance Novel_

This chapter starts immediately after the previous one.

* * *

"Said you didn't want to think—that what you still want, Caro?" Daryl asked, pulling back so he could look into her eyes, his right hand coming up to lift her chin and stoke the soft skin there with his callused thumb, "Or do you need to talk? Tell me all about the bad?"

Carol didn't want to see the concern and trust in his or anyone else's eyes fade to disappointment and distrust once she explained what Negan had ordered her to do. She just wanted to stay safe in Dix's arms and show him how much she trusted him with everything she had.

"Don't want to think now." she said softly, "Don't want to talk." Still looking up into his eyes, she dipped her chin so his thumb traced her lips.

"What do you want then?" he asked her, his eyes saying he was fully willing to do whatever she wanted, whatever she needed from him.

"You." she said, opening her mouth to take his thumb inside its wet heat, tongue swirling around the blunt end and then sucking down.

Daryl's heart rate kicked up—she saw the pulse throbbing in his throat—and then his eyes narrowed.

" _Tell me how you want me."_ he said, low and careful, his voice rasping in that way that made her knees weak and her lady parts tingle. The man could simply count to a hundred in that sex drenching growl and she'd surely almost come by the time he reached _ten._..

 _Naked..._ Carol's overheated mind screamed, though she didn't voice the command as she reached for his big silver buckle and quickly pulled it loose, the metallic jangle as seductive as any sultry song he could've put on to set the mood. She grasped the tail of his shirt, dragging it up off his belly so she could run her hands over his tight abs, pushing the shirt and wife beater higher.

Daryl chuckled and pulled his thumb from her mouth, whipping his shirt off over his head, standing before her bare chested; the name etched over his heart raising and lowering with his increasingly rapid breaths.

" _Touch me, Caro."_ Daryl rasped, _"Please..."_

Carol ran her tongue over her lower lip as she tried to decide where to touch first—she'd learned a few more of his hot spots that very morning—besides his ears there were the small rose brown nipples that hardened on strong pecs as she watched. Or maybe the tattoos? She still hadn't pressed him for the details of how and why he'd acquired them. Of course there were his sun bronzed shoulders, the magnificent corded muscles of his biceps and forearms—and that was just the magnificence _above_ his belt... there was just too much to choose from.

"What do you want me to touch you _with_?" she finally asked, pursing her lips at him, working the buttons of her blouse and backing him towards the kitchenette. By the time his ass hit the table top, her blouse and bra had both joined his shirt on the floor.

Daryl's eyes darkened with a sharp spike of lust and the need to loosen his suddenly very constricting looking jeans. He sprawled his legs open so she could fit between them and couldn't resist cupping her perfect cream pale breasts in his big hands.

" _These?"_ he asked, pleadingly, _"Touch my mouth with these?"_ and then curled down so he could do it, waiting for her assent, his lips barely an inch from the tight rose peak stretching eagerly towards him.

"And your tongue?" she asked, feeling reckless. "I have _other_ things I'd like to touch _that_ with..."

"Most definitely." he agreed, his face solemn, but his eyes were glinting with dangerous promise.

Carol leaned in the inch he was waiting for and he let her touch his mouth with her sweet soft skin, teasingly rubbing the diamond hard nipple over and over on his opened lips, making him groan. She put her hands on the back of his head to hold him in place, winding her fingers through his hair and with another groan he opened his mouth wide and sucked down hard, lashing the tender bud with his strong tongue.

Daryl heard Carol's deep sigh and felt her body dip as her knees went weak. Struggling to just stay upright, her grip on his hair was painfully tight, but it just spurred him on, his total focus on using just his mouth and tongue on her sensitive breasts to make her come for him this _first_ time, anticipating how he would do it the next and the one after that...

* * *

The loud knock on the door took awhile to register, but whoever it was continued most insistently.

Intensely pissed off at the interruption, Daryl groaned _. If it was fucking Abe looking for condoms he'd flay him alive._

"Go away—it's too late!" Daryl yelled, holding Carol still with his hands still cupping her breasts, his breath hot against her damp skin. "See y'all in the mornin.'"

"Daryl? Carol?" Maggie's worried voice brought him up short. _Shit, maybe their kid was sick or something..._

Daryl eased Carol away with a regretful look. She nodded in understanding and stood, picking up her bra and blouse, quickly dressing. When he saw she was covered, Daryl whipped open the door.

"Maggie, Glenn." Daryl said tersely by way of greeting, trying not to show how hard he was working on tamping down his arousal from mere minutes ago. He immediately went on alert though when he saw the looks on their faces.

"I hate like hell to bother you Daryl, but we have a problem." Glenn said, averting his eyes when he saw how Daryl was dressed, or rather _un_ dressed.

"What's wrong?" Daryl said, quickly buckling his belt while he stood in the doorway, blocking the Rhees' view of Carol as she finished pulling herself together as well.

Carol came up next to him and handed him his shirt.

"Is little Hershel okay?" Carol asked, mirroring Daryl's concern.

"He's fine. Daddy and Enid are with him." Maggie assured them.

"It's Jesus... _Paul_. They called from the local hospital just now—he had my name as emergency contact—he's been admitted." Glenn explained.

"Is he okay?" Carol asked. Though she hadn't yet spent a lot of time with him, Carol admired the quiet young man, while Daryl had known him for quite a while on the circuit, enough to call him a friend.

"What the hell happened to him?" Daryl asked.

"He was supposed to be meeting up with a couple of old friends of his for dinner." Glenn said, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck, "I didn't get many details, but something went south and they got the shit beat out of them by some locals."

" _Fuck!"_ Daryl's sharp exclamation of anger made Carol glance over at him. His eyes had gone steely, his jaw was set and his hands were actually shaking as he tried to finish buttoning his shirt.

"I know—it's like Barstow all over again." Glenn said cryptically.

"Let's go." Daryl said abruptly. He gathered his keys, wallet, and hat while Carol grabbed her purse. Daryl urged Glenn and Maggie out of the doorway and down the stairs, but they all paused while he locked up.

"I got the truck keys." Daryl said. There was a king cab pick-up provided by SWW that they all could use to do grocery runs or pick up feed; easier than everyone pulling an extra vehicle behind their rigs, but it smelled of horse and cow shit and arena dust tracked in off their boots.

"We can take my car. It's in the lot." Carol volunteered. She had a much cleaner 4-door Mustang that SWW leased for her to drive to meetings and ferry potential franchisees around at the different venues.

"Meet you there. Gonna stop n' tell Rick n' them so he can pass the word." Daryl gave her a curt nod and pocketed his keys as he strode away.

Carol sighed, wondering if she should do the same for Olivia and Abe, but found herself not wanting to interrupt what might be happening in her trailer. There wasn't really anything they could do for Jesus other than wait and worry like the rest of them. It could wait.

She followed Glenn and Maggie across the camp grounds to the parking lot, the sight of them holding hands, comforting each other as they talked quietly, made Carol acutely aware of Daryl's absence at her side.

As if he sensed her unease, a minute later when he caught up to them, she felt Daryl's hand brush the small of her back before coming to rest there reassuringly. She could tell he was agitated and wanted to ask him if there was more going on than she understood, but then realized there was something she had to do first.

"You drive. I have to call Michonne." Carol said, handing her keys to Daryl and then pulling out her phone and hitting speed dial.

" _What the hell?"_ Glenn stopped short, giving her an incredulous look.

"This has to be managed correctly." Carol said, willing him to understand. Anything that happened with the Team that could make the papers was her responsibility to control and spin the right way for the client.

"This isn't a god damned _PR_ opportunity!" Glenn's voice shook with anger. "He's our _friend_ and he's _hurt._ "

"She has to do her job." Daryl interrupted, putting himself between her and Glenn.

Carol looked at him gratefully—his support and understanding meant everything to her—his narrowed eyes silently said he was backing her, but his frown said she better have a damn good explanation when the time came.

Glenn shook his head at both of them and then there it was: that look of disappointment and distrust she'd been trying to postpone until the morning meeting.

Maggie looked back and forth between her husband and Carol, unsure of what to say.

"What the fuck, Daryl?" Glenn said in angry frustration, "Thought you were Paul's _friend_ —she must be a hell of a god lay to make you-"

Daryl stiffened at the insult and took a warning step towards Glenn.

"Glenn!" Maggie cried in dismay, coming between him and a grim looking Daryl and putting a hand on both their chests to keep them apart.

Just then Michonne picked up her call and Carol started explaining the situation to her, putting her finger in her other ear and turning her back on the others so she could concentrate on what her boss said in reply.

"If you're coming to the hospital with us we need to go." Daryl said, putting his hand gently on her shoulder.

Carol turned back towards him and nodded, still listening to Michonne's counsel as she got into the front seat beside Daryl, trying to ignore the waves of anger coming off Glenn in the back.

* * *

The two men sitting in the waiting room looked like they had been on the losing end of the brawl. The one with reddish straight hair and a paler complexion was holding an ice pack to his right hand, a large bruise was starting to bloom on his left jaw and he had a black eye above it. The other, who had curly sandy brown hair and a deep scowl held an ice pack on his mouth with his right hand and his left arm was splinted and in a sling.

"Oh my god, Aaron, Eric!" Maggie cried when she saw them and rushed over to crouch in front of the couch where the men sat. She put her hands on Aaron's knees and looked like she was about to start crying.

"Hey Maggie." Aaron replied, his voice a bit garbled from behind the ice. Wincing, he dropped it in his lap and put his hand over top of Maggie's and held on.

Maggie started to cry quietly when she saw that Aaron's lower lip was split open and swollen to at least three times its normal size.

"Paul will be okay. Possible concussion—that's what they're doing tests for now." the other man, Eric, said to her, encompassing Glenn in his reassurance and then looked questioningly at Daryl and Carol who were standing behind him.

"This is Carol—she's—" Glenn began, a bit angrily, but Daryl interrupted, pulling off his hat so they could see his face.

"She's with me." Daryl said definitively and Carol looked at him gratefully.

"Daryl Dixon." Aaron nodded. "I know who you are; saw you ride in Vegas in 2015. Paul told us you were in on this Dream Team thing too." he looked Daryl up and down appreciatively and gave him a slow smile, "He did _not_ exaggerate."

"I'm Eric Raleigh and this flirt is my husband, Aaron." the other man said, pursing his lips at his partner in tolerant admonishment.

Aaron tried to grin in acknowledgement, but winced when it pulled painfully on his swollen lip.

"So what happened to you?" Maggie finally asked.

"We had a nice visit, dinner and drinks with Paul at a local bar and then headed outside to go home." Eric explained, "Got jumped in the parking lot by about ten redneck cowboys."

"Shit— _ten_?" Daryl swore.

"Paul did some of his kung fu on them, but there were just too many of them." Aaron said, "While we were fighting off the ones on us, five of them got him down, kicked the shit out of him and dragged him into the alley next to the bar."

"They hung him up on the chain link. Tied his arms and legs up with rope, hung up like it was a crucifixion." Eric said, his voice shaking painfully in remembrance. "Said if he wanted to be 'Jesus' they'd oblige him."

"How did they know... _did_ they know you were...?" Carol stopped and started her question, trying to ask the right thing and not offend.

"I think the exact quote was, if he wanted to be _faggot_ Jesus, savior of the _queers_ , they'd oblige him." Aaron said thickly.

"Sounds familiar." Glenn said with a sour look over at Daryl.

"Barstow?" Carol asked.

Daryl sighed. He understood she needed to know all she could about the situation so she could stay ahead of it, but he wasn't sure she would understand what _he_ had done that night.

"You need it for your press release?" Glenn asked Carol with a sneer.

"Back off, Rhee." Daryl warned.

"Glenn, she needs to know." Maggie said, putting her hand on her husband's arm to calm him.

"We were taking some down time at a bar outside Barstow." Daryl began. He looked to Glenn who looked pissed, but made a motion with his hand for him to continue.

"Abe was out on the dance floor sweet talkin' some girl into joining us for the night so I was sitting at the table with Glenn and Jesus shootin' the breeze when some drunk off his ass guy comes up and starts sayin' all sorts of shit to Paul. Real cutting shit about his riding and insinuating he was getting better rides because he was blowing the stock contractors, n' judges for first pick of the rough stock. _Really_ ugly shit."

"Does that happen a lot? The accusations I mean?" Carol asked.

"There's a lot of homophobia on the circuit, yeah." Daryl nodded, "But there's also a lot of sex. Of _all_ kinds. People usually turn a blind eye if nobody's getting hurt or takin' advantage. This was different though. Turns out the guy was Paul's abusive closeted _ex_."

" _Oh._ " Carol said, her empathy for Jesus clear on her face. She knew how horrific it was to have your less than ideal personal life aired in public.

"He started telling Rovia if he didn't take him back that he'd go to the PRCA ruling board and expose him. Spitting out real vicious language and threats..." Daryl shrugged, "So I told the ass hole I was Paul's new man and a bonafide cowboy who knew how to hog tie and castrate calves and could do the same to abusive dicks with my eyes closed."

"And then Dix _kissed_ Paul. Tongue and everything. It was like something out of a damn romance novel." Glenn said with a shake of his head and a wry grin. "Someone used their phone to film it—might still be up on YouTube..."

Daryl's eyes narrowed, looking to Carol to see her reaction to that revelation.

Other than slightly widening her eyes, she was still listening intently.

"Problem was by then everyone in the bar was paying attention to our table and a few of the local good old boys took exception to the 'rodeo fags' trying to take over their bar." Glenn continued the thread of the story.

"All hell broke loose. We were outnumbered and got our asses handed to us until Abe waded in to help. We just barely got out of there before the cops showed up and arrested everyone who didn't end up in the hospital." Daryl finished the tale.

"Paul came out publicly a couple of weeks later—said he was tired of having the sword of Damocles over his head." Aaron added. "It hasn't been easy going for him, but he's tough. A good man... a good friend."

"Who shouldn't be laying in a hospital room right now because of more fucking prejudiced ass holes." Daryl grated out. "Shit like this has to stop."

"That's what we're trying to _do_ with Denim Dreams." Carol said, drawing everyone's attention. She realized this was a chance to put the best face on what Negan wanted her to do. "That's why we chose _who_ we did to represent the new line. You're all good people who have faced some of the worst things possible and come out the other side—you can give hope, help promote tolerance just by being yourselves and letting us show that to the public."

"It still sounds like exploitation to me." Glenn argued.

"Not if you _control_ it." Carol replied. "Get out in front of it. No spin—just truth. The whole truth, setbacks and failures too." She looked at Daryl, "Not just the winning ride, but the one that went pear shaped and the agonizing rehab after." and then looked at Aaron and Eric, "Not just the triumphant coming out, but the continuing fight for acceptance. People need to know what happened to Paul so they can see how wrong it is. That's my job."

"I thought your job was to sell jeans." Glenn said cynically.

"If that's all there was to it, then we put Dix in a skin tight pair, all sweaty so his t-shirt is plastered to him, riding a mechanical bull like he's fucking it, with lots of lingering close-ups of him flexing all those muscles in slow motion to a sultry country western tune while some pouty turned-on fashion model looks like she's having an orgasm watching him." Carol said, her voice in 'pitch' mode, selling the picture vividly.

" _Damn_ , girl..." Eric fanned himself.

"I vote yea." Aaron chimed in, lifting a hand to have it counted.

Daryl scowled at them both.

"This campaign is supposed to be _more_ than that." Carol said earnestly. "Hit harder; not just be superficial or typical. Be socially progressive. Show how dreams can come true for all kinds of people."

"So what are you asking us to do, Carol?" Maggie asked, standing and crossing her arms in front of herself.

"It's what the meeting tomorrow is supposed to be about..." Carol said tentatively, "Negan wants to use more of your life stories in the ads—not just your rodeo careers, but the rest too—personal details."

"Like what?" Glenn asked suspiciously.

"Like Barstow." Carol said carefully. "You all standing up for your bullied gay friend." She looked over at Daryl, "Or how you helped Abe get back on his feet after he lost his family..."

"Or how the son of the town drunk and a murdered mother rose above his abusive past?" Daryl said, his face set in stone as he stared at her, his mouth working. " _Losing my kid_?"

"Yes." Carol said evenly, refusing to drop her eyes even though they were brimming, "Probably."

"Right." Daryl nodded slowly, then his gaze fell to the floor and he started to chew on the inside of his lower lip. "Said it was bad..." he muttered and then looked up at her, "Weren't no lie." Then he sighed and put his hat back on, tugging it low over his forehead, hiding his eyes. "Need some air."

Carol watched him walk away from her down the hospital hallway. When he reached the doors to the stairs, he slammed them open and stalked through, never looking back.

* * *

I know. Angst fest. Sorry.

I'm done with the semester Hooray! Finals are graded & summer officially begins after Commencement on Saturday so I will have lots more time to write & will be able to update with better regularity & frequency. Thanks to everyone who has asked about this story (& others!)


	12. Chapter 12: What We Lost in the Fire

_While Paul Rovia's friends wait to hear about his condition, Carol and Daryl separately contemplate the state of their relationship after she revealed SWW boss Negan's plans for the DD Team PR campaign._

* * *

 _What We Lost in the Fire_

" _What we lost in the fire, we'll find in the ashes."_ Chisolm, The Magnificent Seven

* * *

Daryl leaned back against the side of the hospital building where he'd stopped, outside the door to the ER, watched as an ambulance arrived, saw a patient unloaded on a gurney and wheeled inside, both EMTs working to keep the person stable while a helpless looking man, (husband? friend? brother?) followed behind.

He closed his eyes against the scene, too much like the night he'd been the one running behind Rosita on the gurney as she was losing their child.

One of the worst moments of his life and Caro wanted him to agree to parade it in front of the whole world like so much cheap gossip fodder to sell fucking _blue jeans_?

He'd trusted her. At one time she'd been the _only_ person that he'd trusted and she'd let him down by disappearing from his life without a trace. Intellectually he knew hadn't been her fault, her mother had given her no choice, but he still felt the residual effect of that abandonment today. When she'd told them just now what she'd been ordered to do by her bosses, he'd felt that past push back to the surface, ugly and raw, warning him of another betrayal.

He paced, chewing his thumbnail down to the quick, the taste of copper momentarily stopping him to look down at the mess he'd made, blood welling. He thrust his thumb down onto his palm and curled his fingers tightly around it and applied pressure, making an inadvertent fist, forcing himself not to lash out and punch the wall in front of him.

He was angry, frustrated, and worried that he'd been wrong about her all along, that she'd used their childhood connection as a convenient _in_ with him and the rest of the people on the SWW rodeo payroll. Could she have been playing him this whole time?

Daryl pulled his phone out of his pocket to call his brother to check in, but hesitated. How would Caro feel knowing he was having one of his brother's PI friends investigate her ex-husband's family?

God, he wanted to trust her. He'd never felt a connection to _anyone_ like the one he felt to her...

Maybe things were out of her control this time too. She'd said what had happened in her meeting with Negan today was bad. She didn't like what he was asking her to do and was putting the best face possible on it. It was her job, the one she kept saying she couldn't afford to lose. She'd told him she needed the job to pay her legal fees for her custody battle. She had her pride, she hadn't asked for his financial help, even when she had to know how deep the Dixon pockets were. _Didn't she?_

He'd told Caro that the only reason he was signing with Denim Dreams was that he needed the money—did she really think he was _broke_? He certainly didn't live all that differently than any other cowboy on the circuit with a good sponsor. Most of his wealth wasn't liquid; it was tied up in land and livestock, though Merle had been diversifying their portfolio for awhile now. Last he heard they owned part of a wind turbine factory in South Dakota...

Daryl had pledged to Merle that he wouldn't use any of the ranch profits to bankroll his final try for the PRCA Championship, so he was living off what he won on the circuit and had been just scraping by after being down for so long recovering from his accident. The contract offer from SWW had come at the perfect time, including the living quarters, transport to all venues and free food and clothing. It allowed him to keep his promise to his brother and use his savings to bankroll their venture into stock contracting after he retired. Daryl's half share of the Dixon Ranch never entered into those calculations.

No, he didn't believe she was after his money. Either she didn't know about it or she didn't care. She was the kind of person who fought for people, she didn't use them. She'd fought for him, stood up to his father; she was fighting for her daughter and would fight for all of them as best she could, with Negan.

He tried to see beyond his immediate knee jerk reaction to the thought of strangers knowing his deepest and darkest secrets. She'd said that they'd all been chosen for a reason. The intention was not to exploit their failings, but to celebrate their successes within the context of their entire experience: the good and the bad, pitfalls and failures endured before the triumphs. What he had to decide was if he believed her.

After some more thinking over a good cup of coffee in the diner across the street, Daryl made two calls, one to his lawyer and one to his brother.

* * *

"He'll be back." Maggie said reassuringly, holding out a cup of vending machine coffee to Carol.

Carol wasn't so sure. She'd hurt him, blindsided him in front of his friends after he'd defended her to Glenn earlier. Dix would be feeling betrayed and disappointed and she didn't blame him one bit.

"I'm fine." Carol said, accepting the cup, but just sat there holding it, not drinking. She looked over at Aaron and Eric seated side by side, literally leaning on one another as they talked with Glenn.

Maggie followed the direction of her gaze and then sat down next to Carol.

"I've known Aaron practically my whole life—his aunt and uncle worked for my daddy on our farm before they retired and he'd come visit in the summers—I had a terrible crush on him when I was twelve and he was fourteen and he told me he loved me too, but not like _that_ because he liked boys. I told him he'd just better not like any of the same ones I liked then." Maggie told her, smiling at the man fondly.

"You have a good heart, Maggie." Carol said with a soft smile.

"Daddy taught us that love is love, no matter what." Maggie said in a no nonsense tone, "I knew when he brought Eric around that he was the one..."

Both women looked over at the couple who were smiling, clearly having a teasing conversation over something Glenn had said.

A flash of dark hair and denim drew their eyes to the open doorway, but it wasn't Daryl returning, it was Shane, hat in hand, looking a bit sheepish.

"Lori couldn't stand sittin' around waitin' to hear something so I got elected to come down and find out what was happening with Paul." he told them, "It was either that or she was coming down here herself."

"We haven't heard anything yet." Glenn said and then introduced the newcomer to Aaron and Eric. While they talked, going over the story of what had happened at the bar again with Shane, Aaron held Eric's hand supportively.

"Daryl will be back..." Maggie repeated, reached over to put her hand over Carol's. "He just needs a little time to process things."

"I never meant to hurt him." Carol said despondently. "Any of you."

"There's no way Mr. Negan could be talked out of it?" Maggie asked.

"No. He has the last word. I talked to Michonne about it and there's nothing she can do. You all signed those contracts giving him final approval on the direction of the campaign." Carol said, sounding defeated. "The cancellation clause for breaking the contract is severe. It says you return to the sponsor all of his outlay on your behalf. His lawyers are interpreting it to mean that you'd have to pay back the full cost of _everything_ SWW has been providing you with, plus the cost of all of the film crew, production team, even my salary—that's tens of thousands of dollars already—it could bankrupt all of you."

"Oh my God." Maggie cried, putting her hand over her mouth. "You think he'd really go through with that?"

"Yes. You could lose your farm," Carol said sadly. "None of you have that kind of money."

"Except Daryl." Shane said. He and the other men had been listening in when Carol started listing the consequences of breaking the deal with SWW.

"What do you mean?" Carol asked.

"He's a _Dixon_." Shane shrugged as if the answer was obvious.

"I suppose he could ask his brother for a loan from the ranch." Carol frowned. She knew that the family ranch Merle ran was profitable, Dix had said as much when he talked to her about the rough stock operation he and his brother wanted to start after he retired from riding.

"Sweetheart, Daryl _owns_ half that ranch and its worth _millions."_ Shane explained, "He could buy out _all_ of your contracts without breaking a sweat."

Carol stared at him blankly. That couldn't be right. Dix's family had been dirt poor when she knew him as a child.

"Their daddy was the black sheep—got disinherited in his twenties for something real ugly he did and then moved across the country to get away from the family." Shane continued, "Told his wife and kids they were all dead. Merle and Daryl never knew they had any relatives until the grandfather died about ten years ago. None of the rest of them wanted anything to do with the ranch part of the estate so they did a search for any other possible heirs during probate, thinking they'd track down the prodigal son and see if he'd straightened himself out. He hadn't, but he'd had two sons who were knocking around the rodeo circuit and more than willing to work their asses off running a ranching operation."

"He never said anything..." Carol said, feeling light headed. "He said he needed the money from Denim Dreams to stay on the circuit..."

"When he's competing he lives off what he makes riding—he doesn't want anybody to think he's got an unfair edge over the rest of the field." Shane said. "I've known Daryl most a'my life and he's the same as he's always been, money or no—one of the good guys."

"So when he gave half his purse to the bull fighters who helped him..." Carol said, thinking of what she'd been told about his actions after his accident.

"He did it because they deserved it—but combined with his recovery time from the spill he took—well, it made him cash poor." Shane nodded. "He and Merle have a deal. If he can't live off what he makes riding, he has to come back to work on the ranch. He was pretty close to it..."

"And then I show up with contract in hand to save the day." Carol said.

"Pretty much." Shane nodded again.

"So why didn't he tell me any of this?" Carol wondered aloud.

Maggie and Glenn exchanged an uneasy look with Shane.

"His ex? Rosita?" Maggie said slowly.

"We've met." Carol said with a twist of her mouth. The gorgeous angry woman had definitely made an impression.

"Let's just say she got pregnant incredibly fast after their first date—I mean _incredibly_." Shane said wryly.

"You think she trapped him?" Carol asked. "To get at his money?"

"It's what most of his friends think, but nobody could talk him out of marrying her." Shane said with a disgusted shake of his head.

"You see how he is with little Hershel—Daryl loves kids—and he would never let one of his own grow up without a father." Maggie said.

"But when she lost the baby; she lost her hold on him." Glenn surmised.

"Merle made her sign an iron clad pre-nup. If she and Daryl split she'd get support for the child, but she had to sign away any claim on Daryl's part of the ranch." Shane said, "Daryl still gave her a nice settlement when they divorced, but she blew through that in record time and so she kept trying to rekindle things with him. Made herself available, no strings..."

Carol nodded; this part she knew; even the dirtier details, like Abe's part in it. She also knew that Rosita was hardly only woman he'd been with since his divorce.

"He was still hooking up with her..." Shane said, looking at Carol, "...until you came along."

"He's happier now, Carol, with you. Really." Maggie said reassuringly. "He really cares about you."

 _Not enough to trust me with the truth._ Carol thought, wiping at a tear that escaped her brimming eyes. After she'd told him everything about her custody fight, to know he'd easily had the financial means to help her and hadn't offered? It was all going up in flames again; nothing left but more ashes...

A put upon looking woman in scrubs holding a computer tablet appeared in the doorway just then. After looking down on it for information she scanned the room.

"I need to speak with a Glenn Rhee?" she asked.

They all stood, confusing the woman.

"I'm Glenn—that's me—these are all Paul's friends." Glenn said.

"You're down as Mr. Rovia's emergency contact?" she looked down at the tablet again.

"That's right."

"Are you a relative?"

"No, a friend." Glenn explained. "He's... estranged from his family."

"Well, hopefully you have the answers I'm looking for." the woman said impatiently, "It seems there's a question about Mr. Rovia's insurance coverage.

"You aren't here to tell us how he is doing?" Aaron asked, frowning at her.

"No, I'm from the business office." she said. "He didn't have a wallet and thus no insurance card with him when he came in as an emergency case, so he received treatment, but we need assurance of coverage before we can make any referrals—"

"What is your name?" Carol interrupted, coming closer to the woman and Glenn. She could read it on the woman's hospital badge attached to her lanyard, but she was making a point of the woman's lack of professionalism in not introducing herself.

"My name is Mrs. Roshelle Neudermeyer." she looked Carol up and down, "And _you_ are?"

"Carol Pelletier. I'm a representative of his employer," Carol said, her efficient capable self coming to the fore, "He has full coverage as part of his SWW contract package." she pulled a card out of her purse and handed it to the woman, "Call corporate and they'll give you all the information you need."

"Savior's Western Wear?" The woman looked a bit skeptical, but took the card from Carol and looked it over.

"We work for the same company." Carol said, trying to keep her patience, "Just call the 800 number on the back of the card."

"All right..." the woman said, turning the card over and seemingly satisfied, she set it on her tablet and turned to go.

"Wait—is anyone going to come tell us what's going on with Paul?" Glenn asked. "He was brought in here almost four hours ago."

"I'm sure when they know anything definite someone will come." Mrs. Neudermeyer said in that same officious placating voice. "Please be patient." and with that she left the room.

* * *

Twenty minutes later a harried looking doctor came looking for Glenn.

"I'm Dr. Anderson, Mr. Rhee—I did the intake on your friend Mr. Rovia after he was treated in the ER." the doctor shook Glenn's hand, "He does have a concussion so we're admitting him for observation overnight and there are some details that I wanted to discuss with you. The police report said he's in the _rodeo_?"

"That's right—he competes in the saddle bronc competition." Glenn replied.

"And he wears a helmet?"

"Always, but this wasn't an accident in the arena Doc, he was _attacked_."

"I understand that, but he's showing signs of _preexisting_ trauma to the brain that around here we usually only see in football players who've taken too many hard hits to the head."

"What are you saying, Doc?" Aaron asked, "He has a brain injury?"

"He has a small bleed, yes. At this point we believe it's manageable, but he really needs to get to a specialist facility for a more extensive work-up. I know you all aren't from around here, so we need to know where you would like him to be transferred."

"Where's the best facility for this type of injury?" Daryl said from the doorway, drawing all eyes to him. He briefly met Carol's gaze, but then looked back to the doctor.

"The best? Probably Mayo in Minnesota." the doctor said. "They do extensive research on traumatic brain injury. Some of the best doctors in the world there."

"All right." Daryl said.

"I'll check with the business office and make sure it's in his provider network or if they'll take my referral—you might need to contact his primary physician for a _direct_ referral or—"

"Just get the necessary paperwork for the transfer ready." Daryl said, interrupting the doctor and taking a step forward, "If it isn't covered I'll take care of it."

The doctor looked over at the cowboy's work a day clothes and raised an eyebrow.

"Don't worry doctor. Daryl's good for it." Carol said in a low bitter monotone.

* * *

Sorry! I cannot seem to stop my Muse from pouring on the angst in this one. I'm even depressing myself at this point. It will get better!

Note: Some guest appearances from annoying Alexandria residents Shelly Neudermeyer (the annoying woman who was always fussing about getting a pasta maker) and Dr. Anderson, (Jessie's husband Pete, the Porch Dick himself!).


	13. Chapter 13: Nothing good ever happens

_Daryl and Carol take some time apart to sort out their feelings._

* * *

" _Nothing good ever happens..."_

Daryl had gone with Dr. Anderson, Glenn and Aaron to talk to Paul about his diagnosis and options for further treatment. Before he left he'd quietly taken Carol aside and asked her to wait for him to drive back, but she'd instead opted to give the car keys to Maggie and left with Shane to return to the camp grounds. Half way there she asked him if he would take her to the local motel where Olivia had been staying instead.

"He wanted to talk to you, Carol." Shane said gently. They both knew who he meant.

"Nothing good ever happens after two a.m." Carol said, closing her eyes and resting her head on the seat back.

Since it was close to three, Shane didn't argue the point. They were all tired and wrung out, no one more so than Carol. Her job responsibilities combined with worry about Jesus and the revelations about Daryl weighed on her heavily.

"Instead of a motel come stay with us and get some rest so you can face whatever the morning brings." Shane offered. Carol had told him about why she couldn't go to her own place. After a chuckle Shane had agreed it would be best not to intrude on Abe and Olivia.

"I don't want to put you out..." Carol sighed. She just couldn't face going back to Daryl's RV. A motel room seemed the best option.

"You know we got room _. My_ room." Shane told her. "Bed's all made up and ready to go."

Carol did know that. The three of them all slept in the large bedroom at the end of their RV, but it was a two bedroom model, the smaller one tucked in next to the bathroom in the hallway. Any visitor who didn't know about the reality of the situation was told that it was Shane's room.

"You've been friends with Daryl a long time..." she didn't want to make anyone chose sides.

"You're our friend too Carol." Shane said. "You know Lori will want to see you 'n take care of you."

"I'm too tired to argue with you." Carol said, sounding relieved.

"Good." Shane said with satisfaction. "We're taking a break and heading out for home for a couple of days for Lori's next OB/GYN appointment. You're welcome to come with us if you like."

Everyone else was supposed to leave for Arizona in the morning for the next rodeo. Her rig with rental car hitched to it would be driven by one of the DD crew whether she was there or not. She did need some time away from Daryl to sort out her feelings; to decide if she could forgive him. Right now she just felt incredibly sad.

"Sounds like a plan." Carol said. She could quickly get her things out of Daryl's RV before he got back, which would give her the couple day's worth of clothes and other necessities of hers that had migrated there over the last few weeks. She also needed to call Michonne and fill her in on how Paul was doing and work on the press release about what had happened to him, and after that probably cry on her friend's shoulder long distance over Daryl...

"It'll work itself out, sweetheart." Shane tried to reassure her, "Always does."

* * *

"What do you mean you don't know where she is?" Daryl asked the kid that helped manage the SWW vehicles—what was his name? Benjamin? That's right—he went by Ben—who'd come looking for the keys to Carol's rental.

"Don't know man—just got a message that we should go ahead and take her vehicles to the next venue and she'd catch up to us later—she's the boss so I don't ask questions." Ben shrugged.

Daryl had gotten back to the camp grounds at dawn after making sure all of the arrangements to move Paul to Minnesota had been completed. Aaron was going to take a week off from work to go with him and Eric would join them there at the end of the week as well so Paul wouldn't be alone.

Daryl was tired and heartsick when he got back to the campgrounds and just wanted to talk to Caro. When he'd walked into his RV and saw that all of her stuff was gone he sat down onto the bed, his head in his hands, feeling like he was going to cry and then throw up. He tried calling her, but she let it go to voice mail. The only message he could think to leave was _I'm sorry_.

Then he'd woken up Abe and Olivia, thinking she might've gone back to her own place, but after some under _other_ circumstances comically embarrassed sputtering they told him they hadn't seen her.

The kid had found him as he was on his way to question the rest of the DD Team. As Daryl handed over the keys he realized that there was one rig missing from the circle—the Grimes'—and he pulled out his phone, dialing Rick's number.

"She's fine. She's with us." Rick said before Daryl could even say hello. "Shane left you a voice mail which you probably haven't listened to yet if you're calling me. Listen to it and we'll see you in a couple of days." and then he hung up.

" _Son of a bitch!"_ Daryl fumed and almost threw the cell across the camp ground. Instead he sunk down onto the bench of one of the tables in the picnic area and checked his messages.

"You hurt her, Dixon." Shane said in the message, his voice low and earnest. "Don't think you did it on purpose, but you did. Call it a lie of omission—I know you got burned by 'Sita—but by not tellin' Carol about the truth of your finances you made her think you just plain didn't trust her. She's a good person and she should be with someone who will give her everything she deserves, _especially_ honesty. You need to take some time and think on what you're gonna say to her when we get back. We're heading home for Lori's check up and then we'll meet back up with you in Phoenix. Don't call unless it's an emergency. She needs this time. Take care, okay, buddy?" and the call ended.

" _Shit."_ Daryl muttered quietly. Glenn and Maggie had read him the riot act in the car on the way back to the campgrounds this morning, saying basically the same thing. They'd been appalled to think that he deliberately kept Carol in the dark about his true connection to the Dixon wealth because he was worried she was another gold digger. When he tried to explain that he'd done no such thing, that he thought she already knew about his partnership in the ranch and what it meant, they'd looked skeptical.

Without betraying her confidence, he couldn't tell them the real reason Carol had been so hurt to find out that he was wealthy: that what he'd taken as her being too proud to ask for his financial help getting her daughter back, had instead been pure ignorance on her part. It was like showing someone dying in the desert the oasis that you owned and then not letting them drink from its pool or rest in the shade of its trees.

He had to make it up to her, prove that he'd do anything, move heaven and earth to help her.

Jumping up, he made a beeline for the parking lot where Ben was just pulling out in Carol's car.

"Hold up!" Daryl yelled, waving his arms. The kid stopped the car and rolled down the window.

" _Now_ what, man?" Ben called, looking harried.

"I need the car or the pick-up today—got some important shit to do—which one can I take?"

"Have to stop and get feed so we need the pick-up, so it's this I guess." he looked Daryl up and down and scratched his blonde head, "You sure Ms. P. is okay with you taking her car?"

"She's doesn't need it today." Daryl said, which was true, but didn't really answer the question.

"Guess it's one of the perks of banging the hot boss lady, huh?" the kid smirked, but went immediately sober faced when he saw the look of rage that comment brought out in Daryl, whose hand snaked in and grabbed hold of the front of Ben's shirt and hauled him forward, almost pulling him out through the window.

"You will _never_ disrespect Ms. Pelletier like that again." Daryl said tightly, his gaze so narrowed he was squinting.

The kid nodded, wide eyed.

"Leave my rig for last. I need to get some things out of it before you take it." Daryl ordered, releasing him.

"Yes sir." Ben nodded, quickly pulled the car back into the parking space and got out, handing Daryl the keys and backing away, "Uh-just so you know, Mr. Dixon, we gotta be on the road by seven."

Daryl looked at his watch: six-thirty. Just enough time to take a quick shower, change clothes and throw a couple days worth of stuff into a duffle. He nodded at the kid, who walked quickly away; looking back over his shoulder a couple of times to make sure Daryl wasn't coming after him.

 _So that was what everybody thought? That he and Caro were lovers? He'd thought they'd been more discrete than that; it was why she kept her own rig. He should've known better, all communities liked to gossip, even small ones like the DD Team. It hadn't gone unnoticed that she was spending nights in his RV. What if Pelletier had someone checking up on her? Shacking up with a cowboy probably wouldn't play so well in front of a custody judge._

 _Fuck!_

 _Why did this just keep getting more and more complicated?_

Daryl dug his phone out of his pocket as he got in the car to pull it around by his RV. He hit a number on his speed dial and waited as he started the car.

"Hey—you got time for me later today?" he asked the person on the other end, "Say eleven?" he paused while they checked, "Okay, noon's actually easier. Yeah, you could say that. See you then."

* * *

"So what do you think you _should_ you have done?" the blonde woman on the computer screen asked Daryl, pushing her glasses up onto the bridge of her nose.

"Fuck, Denise, I don't know! I thought I was respecting her independence, tryin' not to just step in and solve all her problems like some overbearing white knight! She just got done tellin' me how much she hated taking the money from her asshole prick of a father's estate!"

Daryl was sad and frustrated. He'd rather be heading for where Caro had gone off to, but he thought he should respect her obvious desire to be left alone. Back in the old days he'd have hit a bar and gotten lost in a bottle and some willing arms. Being around Abe had tempted him back to that coping mechanism once more, but he knew better. Skyping his therapist was a much healthier alternative.

"Do you see the difference now? How being forced to use her abuser's money is different than allowing you—someone she knows loves her—to help her financially?" Denise asked.

"Does she?"

"What?"

" _Does_ she know I love her?" Daryl said, almost to himself.

"You've never told her?"

"I didn't... I didn't want to overwhelm her... I told you, I'm trying to take things slow." Daryl reminded her. They'd talked a lot about this when Caro had first come back into his life. As his therapist he'd trusted Denise with the details of both he and Caro's childhood abuse and they'd agreed it was best to let Caro set the pace of their relationship.

"So even though she's been staying with you, you still haven't told her or... _shown_ her how you feel?" Denise asked leadingly.

"Like I said... going slow..." Daryl said definitively. He knew Caro was attracted to him, but he also knew that sex was a really big minefield for her. The intimacy that they'd shared so far had been so special to him, he'd never felt closer to another woman and he didn't want to lose that...

"And how many dates did you go on with your ex-wife before you had sex?" Denise asked him.

"You know the answer to that." He and Denise had covered his marriage and its aftermath extensively in their sessions. He and Rosita had never dated. Their first hook up had been at a rodeo when she patched him up after a bad ride. After that when he kept running into her working at every venue he competed at she'd said it must be fate and he ended up back in her bed. Only later did she admit that she'd watched the entries and traded the other EMTs for shifts at rodeos where he'd be riding. He'd scoffed when Denise said it sounded like she'd been stalking him...

When he and Merle inherited the ranch and then 'Sita turned up pregnant a few weeks later, it had seemed like fate. He finally had the means to provide for the family he'd always wanted: a real home, beautiful wife, a baby, everything was falling in to place. Until it all fell apart.

"And how many until you told her you loved her?" Denise continued.

"Vows say love honor and cherish." Daryl said in quiet defensiveness. Marrying her was the closest he'd come to saying it. He'd loved his child and by extension he cared for its mother. I love you's were never something he'd learned to say. His brother and father certainly never had. His mother had said them and she'd left him.

"You're not that lonely little boy with abandonment issues any more, Daryl." Denise said gently. "If you feel it, _say it._ Carol needs to hear it."

"If she ever talks to me again." Daryl sighed.

"If you explain your thought process to her the way you've done to me, I think she'll understand why you had this misunderstanding." Denise told him in a no nonsense tone, "I'm open to a couples counseling session with you both if you think she'd agree."

"Thanks—that helps." Sudden tears sprung to Daryl's eyes at the offer. She had already helped him deal with so much of the shit from his past. Knowing he had Denise's support might give him the confidence to face Caro. Daryl sighed, raising his thumbnail to his mouth only to be stopped by the band-aid his earlier gnawing at it had made necessary.

"I think you need to be completely honest with her about everything." Denise said, "Give her no reason to doubt you again." she looked off screen and then gave him a regretful smile. "My next appointment is here so I have to go—but please call again whenever you need to, okay? On a personal note, I'm supposed to tell you hello from Tara and to not fuck it up this time."

That made Daryl laugh and use his middle finger to offer a hello back to Tara which made Denise grin and roll her eyes but promise to pass along.

Daryl exited the site and closed down his laptop, trying to decide if he wanted to go inside the diner he'd pulled over at to park for his session or just get back on the road. He checked his watch and with another two hours to go until he got to his final destination for the night, he decided to do drive through fast food and not stop. He'd learned to drive, caffeinate and eat on the blacktop driving at night while Merle slept, heading for the next rodeo in the next town.

He looked down at the briefcase full of documents that Merle had messengered to him sitting on the passenger seat, tossed the laptop down on top of it and then started the car.

This time day after tomorrow he should be in Phoenix, hopefully with good news for Caro that would start to make up for the way he'd hurt her.

* * *

 _Guest appearances by Ben from Kingdom and Dr. Denise from Alexandria_ _(RIP)._

 _Hmmn, where's Daryl off to?_


	14. Chapter 14: Patterns

_Carol and Daryl start to work things through with a little help from their friends._

* * *

 _Patterns_

Dr. Carson the OB/GYN and his nurse were well used to having two hovering fathers present for Lori's appointments. The addition of another person to watch the sonogram was greeted with a 'the more the merrier' attitude by the smiling doctor.

"So you must be what? Barrel racer?" the friendly nurse asked Carol as she helped settle Lori onto the gurney.

"Oh, I don't compete," Carol said, blushing, looking down at her outfit, realizing how at home she'd come to feel in her cow girl clothes: boots, jeans and western cut shirts. Lori had put on a pretty summer maternity dress for the appointment, but Carol had only brought what was in Daryl's RV.

"Carol's an old friend—we went to elementary school together—she works for a company that's doing PR for some of our other rodeo friends." Lori explained.

"Like that good lookin' bull ridin' devil Daryl Dixon?" the nurse said, waggling her eyebrows.

At the mention of his name Carol blanched visibly.

"You wound me to the quick, Nurse Diane—thought I was your favorite rodeo cowboy!" Shane said in a rush, holding his hand to his heart, drawing focus from Carol.

"You're darn pretty too, young man, but I have a definite predilection for a man who'll strap himself to a thousand pound stick a'dynamite and _go_!" Diane said with a smirk. "My sister e-mailed me a link for that Dixon's latest ride on ESPN2 and mmm-hmm if that boy don't fill out his Levis' _nice_."

"No Levis' anymore!" Rick said with a solemn shake of his head and a wink at Carol who gave him a sickly smile.

"Don't tell me they're instituting _nude_ bull ridin'—might actually get me to go to a _live_ rodeo!" Diane fanned herself.

"Daryl's got himself a sponsorship with SWW to be a spokesperson for _their_ new denim line," Rick explained, "That's what Carol's doing PR for: called _Denim Dreams_."

"Oh! So you know that _fine_ man _personally_..." Diane looked at Carol with new interest.

Carol blinked and blushed, her mouth coming open but no words coming out.

"We're ready." Dr. Carson interrupted any further conversation. Lori reclined in front of him on an exam table with her dress pulled up over her belly and a drape over her from hips to feet. Rick held one of her hands, Shane the other. Carol wondered if they knew which one of them was the biological father or if they even cared.

"Do we want to know the sex, mom and dads?" Dr. Carson asked, applying gel to Lori's abdomen and then holding up the scanning device.

Rick and Shane both looked to Lori, letting her decide.

Tears sprung to Carol's eyes. The sight of them so happy, a family, about to look at their child was too much. Ed had never gone with her to her maternity appointments, his mother had. The woman was not warm and motherly. It felt more like she was there to make sure that Carol wasn't doing anything wrong that might endanger the heir. She still remembered the woman's icy look of displeasure when the sonogram revealed that Carol had not produced the expected male offspring. Her beautiful little girl wasn't enough for the all mighty Pelletiers. Not until Carol had tried to take her and leave.

"It doesn't really matter to us, Doc." Lori said with an impish grin, "I like surprises."

"All right—I might have you close your eyes or look away at a certain point then." Carson told them and then narrowed his eyes at the men, "So no peeking, dads."

Lori looked over at Carol to share the good humor but her face fell when she saw Carol was crying.

"What's wrong?" Lori asked, making Carol give a sad little laugh through her tears.

"I'm just happy for you." Carol said, wiping at her eyes and shaking her head back and forth in denial that these were anything but tears of joy.

Lori frowned but didn't question further.

Shane and Rick exchanged a worried look over her head.

"Anyone who doesn't want to know, no peeking now." Dr. Carson warned.

Carol closed her eyes, not wanting to know something that the parents didn't. The ache of what she was missing hit her full force then. Lori had not one but _two_ loving husbands to love and support her through her pregnancy, not a man she thought she knew who'd turned into a cruel stranger after she'd married him and borne his child.

She missed Sophia every single day.

And now, seeing how Shane and Rick were with Lori, she missed _Daryl._

It was ridiculous. She was angry with him. She needed time to think, time away from him. She didn't want to keep making the same mistakes over and over...

Then why did she wish it was her on that table, Daryl holding her hand as the doctor asked them if they wanted to know if it was a boy or a girl?

* * *

Daryl reached his destination at about three in the afternoon. The town of Pelletier Brook Lakes, Montana had a population of ten thousand or so, was the county seat and of the 87 businesses within its city limits, only fourteen were not owned by someone in the Pelletier family. When Daryl Dixon pulled into the parking lot of the Twin Pines Motor Lodge just over the county line, he saw that it faced a large billboard advertising the investment broker services of the First National Bank's Vice President, Edwin Pelletier, Jr. complete with a larger than life size photo of the asshole looking rather constipated, though he was probably trying for serious and dignified. Daryl was pleased to see someone had taken target practice on the billboard, shooting out photo Ed's eyes. Then he wondered what it would look like when a car came down the highway behind it and they lit up like he was possessed. _That_ would be eerie as fuck.

He parked his car in front of room twenty-three and went up to the door and knocked. The Samoan looking guy that answered was about six foot seven and filled the doorway. His face lit up with a grin when he recognized Daryl, but before he could say anything an irritated yell came from within the room.

" _Jerry!_ Don't just let him stand out there."

Jerry rolled his eyes but stepped back so Daryl could enter and then closed the door behind him.

"Daryl, my friend! I am pleased to see you arrived in good time—how was your journey?" the dignified African American man who spoke was standing beside one of the beds in the room which was covered with photographs, newspaper clippings and papers, as were most of the walls in the room. It looked like the lair of either a serial killer or the obsessed cop hunting one. He strode forward, holding out his hand to Daryl, but rather than just shake hands he clasped Daryl's forearm and held it in a dramatic gesture of solidarity.

"Zeke." Daryl said, nodding. Ezekiel King was one of his brother's more eccentric friends. A brilliant lawyer, he was also an excellent private detective, specializing in getting the goods on men like Ed Pelletier, ones whose veneer of upright citizenship covered an ugly cesspool of bad acts. Add in spousal abuse and possible child endangerment and King had practically paid the Dixons to take the case.

"I'm going need a Silkwood shower after this one." Ezekiel said, shaking his head as he released Daryl's arm.

"Tell me."

"Well, I sent you the town history." Ezekiel said, but still moved to the first part of the wall display, pointing at the oldest images of the town he'd put up: maps, land plattes and old newspaper headlines and photos.

Daryl walked over to the wall and began reciting what he'd read in the files Merle had sent.

"Founded in 1870 as Brook Lakes after the natural water feature—twin lakes connected by a stream—but when copper was discovered in 1881, Frederick Pelletier basically took over by bringing in armed men and forcing the farmers out by buying up their land for the mine. Anyone who refused met with an 'accident' or was convicted of a crime that sent them to prison or sent them to the scaffold."

"And the Pelletier family's been running the town ever since." Jerry nodded, his usually smiling mouth turned down at the corners.

"Old man is Bank President and Mayor. Son is being groomed to take over, though when your girlfriend left him it caused some ripples." Ezekiel said, looking at the section of the wall featuring the Pelletier genealogy, Ed's picture near the bottom, "People saw it as a chink in the armor."

"Go Carol." Jerry chimed in, sounding proud of Caro's defiance of the iron control of the family.

"How's her little girl?" Daryl asked Ezekiel.

"Sophia? They keep her close." he replied and pointed to the next section of the wall by the door. It was filled with a variety of telephoto lens photos of a small strawberry blonde girl engaged in various activities. "According to the school principal she's been being home schooled since the last custody hearing. She has riding lessons twice a week—the instructor comes to the stables on the estate grounds—and then takes dance classes at a local studio every Thursday—only time she's off the estate grounds." he said leadingly.

"This isn't a snatch and grab, Zeke." Daryl said, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked at the pictures of Sophia, "We need to do this all legal so Caro gets to _keep_ her."

"She's not happy, dude." Jerry said, sounding very _un_ happy, "Look at her. She should be on top of the world, she's got everything a kid could want, but look what's missing."

"Her momma..."Daryl muttered, looking at the reference photo of Caro and Sophia she'd given him and he'd sent to Zeke from his phone.

"She _never_ smiles." Jerry said, lifting his hand to take down an enlarged close-up of Sophia's face. So perfectly focused, you could see her freckles in it, so like Carol's and her big green sad eyes. "I've taken literally hundreds of pictures of that kid and she never smiles."

"You think she's being abused?" Daryl said, suddenly tense, turning to Jerry who'd obviously been the one doing the surveillance on the estate.

"I don't know. I haven't seen anything like that, but we don't have anyone on the inside." he said regretfully.

"We need someone in there." Daryl said, looking over at Zeke, "Get some eyes on what happens _inside_ that house."

"Working on it, but Ed Sr. is a paranoid bastard. They own most of the town and know every trade person down to the guy that paints the lawn jockey. Full security set up, plus dogs and guards patrolling at night. No one gets on those grounds without them knowing it."

"That's a fuck load of security for a small town bank president." Daryl mused, running his hands back through his hair in frustration. "What else do you have on him?"

"I was hoping you'd ask." Ezekiel said mildly. "Enough that we should be able to go right through the front door and walk back out with the girl."

"You found something that good?" Daryl asked in amazement.

"Patterns, Dixon—beautiful _beautiful_ patterns." Ezekiel grinned broadly, almost rubbing his hands with glee.

There was another knock on the door and Jerry moved to answer it, checking through the peep hole first. When he opened it, a lovely blonde and a dreadlocked African American woman stood at the threshold looking in with frowns on their faces.

"And our party is almost complete." Ezekiel said, sounding pleased.

"Well then, let's get this party started!" another growling male voice spoke from behind the women, making them turn back towards him in surprise.

"Merle!" Jerry said happily raising his beefy hand to give the newcomer a high five.

" _Jerry!_ Let's have everyone come _in_ , shall we?" Ezekiel cautioned, "It doesn't due to linger out in plain sight."

The big man stepped back and the two women and Merle came into the room.

"Introductions are in order." Ezekiel said, gesturing broadly to encompass the room. "You've all met Jerry already. These cowboys are the brothers Dixon, Daryl and Merle. And this is Carol's lawyer, Andrea Harrison and her employer, Michonne Walker."

"Her _friends_." Michonne said, her voice holding a challenging edge, honing in on Daryl, who shifted uncomfortably under her keen scrutiny.

"We're _all_ here to help her, Ms. Walker." Ezekiel said evenly.

"Then maybe I'd like to hear Daryl tell us why he hurt her so much that she called me in tears this morning." Michonne said angrily, glaring at Daryl.

"Slow down there, darlin.' I don't like your _tone_." Merle blustered.

"Shut up Merle." Daryl said tersely.

"Well, Daryl?" Michonne pressed.

"It was a misunderstanding; I assumed she knew something that she didn't..." Daryl said, coming off a little defensive and a little guilty.

"You know what they say about assumptions." Andrea said dryly.

"Make an ass outa you n' me..." Jerry muttered, nodding his head up and down sagely.

" _He's_ the ass." Michonne agreed, stepping closer and waving an accusing finger in Daryl's face.

"Ms. Walker, that's not helpful." Ezekiel chided.

"You need to stand down there, warrior queen." Merle agreed, stepping between Michonne and Daryl and reaching for her arm.

"Don't you _touch_ me!" Michonne pulled back and glared at him.

" _I'm in love with her."_ Daryl said loudly.

All of the occupants of the room turned to him and froze in place.

"Caro." Daryl said more quietly, "I love her. She needs her little girl back. _That's_ what we're here for."

Everyone stared at him.

Merle and Jerry grinned at one another.

Michonne looked like she wanted to argue, but Andrea shook her head at her friend to stop her from saying anything more.

" _Right."_ Ezekiel said with a big smile, breaking the tension, "So let's get to it."

* * *

 _Daryl's pulling out all the stops to get Sophia back! He's assembled the Dirty Half-Dozen to help, LOL!_

 _Special Appearances by Dr. Carson (formerly) from Hilltop and Diane from Kingdom._

 _Pelletier Brook Lakes is a real town, except it's in Maine. There are also a lot of things named for various Pelletiers in New Orleans, Canada and France!_


	15. Chapter 15: The Truth is Out There

_This very full chapter starts almost immediately after the previous one._

 _Everyone pitches in to help take down the Pelletiers and rescue Sophia as Daryl finds some new allies._

* * *

The Truth is Out There...

"So what's the plan, Zeke?" Merle asked, leaning against the door frame of the bathroom from where he'd just emerged.

Andrea and Michonne had taken the only two chairs in the room while Daryl and Jerry each sat on one of the twin beds.

Everyone was looking to Ezekiel, who paced in front of the wall with the estate ground plan and floor plan of the house.

"Need to get someone on the inside—think I have an in for us—but it has to be Daryl." Ezekiel said, pulling up a file on the big PC screen on the desk.

"Why him?" Andrea asked, her mouth turned down. "He's not a PI or law enforcement."

"He's a _horseman_." Ezekiel said. "They're taking delivery of a new mare for the girl—a dressage competition horse—I made contact with the trainer and for a price he's willing to let Daryl take the animal in. The deal is he stays to make sure Sophia can handle the horse; works with them both."

"He's not exactly an unknown." Michonne pointed out, his rodeo fame was why he'd been chosen for the DD Team.

"If they've been keeping tabs on Carol they may have a file on him." Andrea frowned. "What if someone recognizes him?"

"Pelletiers don't follow rodeo, and even if they have a file on him, rich people seldom look in the face of servants." Ezekiel said. "And that's what he'll be."

"We need him on the inside in case they get wind of what we're doing and try to bolt with the kid." Jerry said. "We need to make sure she's safe."

"The trainer will be here in an hour with the horse." Ezekiel said, "He'll turn it over, pick-up, trailer and all to Daryl and he'll head for the estate. We'll have constant surveillance on him."

"When will the charges be filed?" Daryl asked. "Arrests made?"

"It's tricky—I think the county prosecutor is in collusion with the judge who's on Pelletier's payroll and we're not sure exactly how much of the Sheriff's department is too." Ezekiel said with a sigh, "We have to wait for the Feds. to get here. My contact says sometime tomorrow afternoon if everything goes as planned. We'll give you a heads up if you need to bail with the girl sooner."

"All right." Daryl said, rubbing his bandaged thumb to remind himself not to raise it to his mouth to gnaw. He was strangely nervous about meeting Caro's little girl. What if she didn't like him? He pushed the thought away. Didn't matter. He'd do whatever he had to do to protect her.

* * *

Mrs. Pelletier didn't linger long in the stables after Daryl unloaded the mare. She asked Daryl a few questions about the horse's care and accepted the registration papers and its show win records all the while looking critically at the horse.

"Grandmother, can I stay and help him take care of her?" Sophia asked politely.

" _May_ I stay." Mrs. P. corrected her.

"May I stay?" Sophia said, more impatient this time.

"Richard will stay with you and Mr. Cooper." Mrs. P. looked over at her granddaughter's ever present bodyguard and then at back at the horse.

"Of course." Daryl said. He had introduced himself as Sam Cooper, employee of the stable from which the horse had been purchased. He had the paperwork to prove it, courtesy of Zeke and the real Cooper, the trainer. He kept his hat on, drawn down low over his brow as an extra precaution, but no one showed any signs of recognition.

These were a different kind of horse people, the kind who competed in Olympic style English riding events, dressage, jumping and steeplechase. The Western style of the rodeo was like an alternate universe to them.

"We'll have to see how Sophia and the horse work together before the final payment is made." Mrs. P. said all the while scrolling through texts or e-mails on her phone. "As discussed, you will have a room in the servants' quarters until such time. Richard will show you where."

"Yes ma'am. Thank you." Daryl said with proper deference, tipping his hat.

Mrs. P. turned to Sophia, ignoring Daryl's gesture, phone still in hand.

"Your grandfather and I will be out this evening, but your father's friend Karen will be joining him for dinner. You may dine with them or eat in the kitchen."

"Kitchen please." Sophia said succinctly, looking like she'd just tasted something sour.

"As you wish." Mrs. P. nodded crisply, sending a text to indicate Sophia's choice even while she continued to speak. "I'm expecting good things from this animal, Mr. Cooper."

"I'm sure you'll be pleased" Daryl nodded. "She's a winner, ma'am."

"That's what we paid for." Mrs. P. said dismissively and then turned back to encompass Sophia in her gaze. "Don't ride her until tomorrow; she needs time to recover from the trip. We'll do some level A drills at eight after you lunge her for an hour."

"Yes, Grandmother." Sophia said and Daryl nodded.

Mrs. P. swept out without even saying goodbye, intent on her next task whatever that was.

Daryl went in the stall that had been assigned to the new horse and began unbuckling her travel blanket. That done, he folded it and draped it over the stall half door, talking soothingly to the mare as he did so.

"You're a real cowboy." the girl said, watching him as he knelt to remove the protective boots from the lower half of the horse's legs. "I can tell."

"How?" Daryl asked her, curious to see what she'd say.

"She trusts you." Sophia said. "She was scared—was shaking until you touched her."

"Doesn't like being trailered." Daryl agreed. The mare was a pretty little thing, a thirteen hand purebred Welsh pony from stock directly imported from England. She was the perfect size for an eight year old to ride.

A high pitched whiny sounded from one of the stalls along the stable aisle and the new mare raised her head and whickered back in curiosity.

Sophia's face fell and she looked over toward the stall where the whinnies continued.

"What's wrong?" Daryl asked, standing and coming out of the mare's stall and laying the boots on a bale of hay. He pulled the stall door shut and closed the latch. The mare stepped up and hung her head over the door to look at them.

"That's Domino, my old pony." Sophia said, sniffing back her tears, "We have to sell her now that I'm getting a new competition horse."

She went over to the stall and opened it. Inside was a smaller pinto pony, about twelve hands tall with perfect confirmation and dark intelligent eyes. Sophia reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out an apple which she held out to the pony who took a delicate bite of it.

"Why? Seems like y'all could afford to keep feedin' her." Daryl said, looking around the state of the art stable. It was the cleanest most elegantly appointed barn he'd ever seen. All the horses were housed in large box stalls with knee deep saw dust, automatic waterers and stall toys to keep them busy when not pastured.

"She's a champion and worth a lot of money." Sophia said sadly. "There are lots of people that want her for their kids to compete on. Grandma says it's good business."

"But you love her." Daryl said with understanding.

Behind them Richard the body guard shifted uncomfortably. Daryl's gaze went to him and was surprised to see that the man looked almost as upset as the girl.

"You can try talking to your dad again, 'Phia." Richard said, trying to be encouraging.

"I already told him I would give up my Christmas and birthday money to pay for her board." Sophia said sadly, petting the pony's nose. "He just laughed."

Richard made a disgusted noise and muttered something under his breath.

"I'm sorry... guessing she's kinda like family to you." Daryl said, sympathetic. "But... well, think of it this way. You can help pick out her new family. Make sure she'll have a nice new kid to take care of her and love her too."

Sophia shrugged in semi-agreement and kept petting Domino while the pony continued to crunch away at the apple.

Richard gave Daryl a grateful look for trying to help. It seemed that he really did care about the child he was guarding, maybe more than her father and grandparents did.

"You got one of those for this one too? Make a new friend?" Daryl asked Sophia, gesturing to the new mare. "Her stable name is Poppy." he added.

"Like the flower?" Sophia asked, tilting her head like a curious puppy.

"Just like." Daryl nodded.

Sophia looked down at the black and white pony's face, pushing her forelock off her broad forehead to give her a kiss there while the pony licked the last of the apple juice off her fingers. Then she gave her a nudge back and closed the stall door.

Reaching in her other jacket pocket she took out another apple and stared at it for a little bit before she crossed the barn aisle to go to Poppy's stall.

* * *

A frantic knocking on his room door just after nine p.m. roused Daryl from bed, throwing down the magazine he'd been trying to read. He reached for the gun Merle had given him, but when he heard his fake name called in a female voice he recognized on the other side of the door he held it behind his back so he didn't scare her as he opened it.

"Mary?" he asked, checking the hall to make sure she was alone. The nanny was a pleasant middle aged woman and they had met earlier when she came down to the stables to see why Sophia was late for dinner. She wasn't exactly the type who would come looking for a late night romp with a cowboy...

Then Sophia stepped out from behind her nanny.

"Mr. Sam!" she cried in relief.

Daryl stuck the gun in the back of his jeans and pulled his shirt down over it to conceal its outline.

"What's wrong? Where's your guard?" Daryl asked, but Sophia was almost hysterical with fear, not making any sense.

"Phone!" she finally got out, "You have a mobile phone?"

"A cell? Yeah—but..." the nanny and little girl pushed past him into the room.

Daryl shut the door behind them and locked it.

"Please—I need to use it—I have to call my mom and warn her!" Sophia said, frightened.

"Warn her?"

"We heard them—Ed and that woman—they were talking about it!" Mary said, taking Sophia's hand in solidarity.

"I don't understand." Daryl said, gently taking hold of the nanny's arm to pull her around to face him.

"We were leaving the kitchen—I made her some cocoa to help her sleep—they were in the hall way heading upstairs. They didn't see us." Mary told him.

"You don't work for _them_ , not really; right Sam?" Sophia asked, quailing a little, "You just brought Poppy to me."

"Is that why you gave Richard the slip?" Daryl asked. "Came to me instead?"

"No—I didn't. He _sent_ us to you. Said you would help us." Sophia told him. "He said all the other phones have bugs. They'll know if I try to call her."

"Why do you need to warn her, your mom?" Daryl asked, putting aside for the moment the strangeness of her bodyguard sending her to him.

"I think they're going to kill her!" Sophia cried in a sobbing whisper. "They said some New York lawyers were re-filing for custody and she must've found a sugar daddy with deep pockets to... they said a bad word... the f word... about my _mom_..." she paused and looked furious. "I _hate_ them!"

"Sophia-they _said_ they were going to kill her?" Daryl asked, kneeling down so he was at her eye level, keeping his hold on her arm.

"Mr. Ed said that she was never going to win." Mary told him, growing more upset as she spoke. "He said they'd _eliminate_ her first. Said the Grandfather had people who could do that and make it look like an _accident_!"

" _I have to call my mom!"_ Sophia cried, _"Please!"_

"Calm down, honey." Daryl said, trying to keep his own shit together at the direct threat to Caro.

"Mr. Sam, you have to help us." Mary pleaded.

"I'll take care of it." Daryl said reassuringly, "I know where she is."

"What?" Sophia asked, her eyes going wide, " _You_ know my mom?"

"Yeah, I do." Daryl said, using his free hand to touch the small earpiece he wore to activate the speaker. "Zeke, did you copy that? Caro's with the Grimes."

"Copy." the voice in his ear said, "Merle's already sending the Sheriff and the Federal Marshals as we speak."

"Don't scare her, okay?" Daryl asked, "Make sure you tell her Sophia is safe and with me."

Sophia was looking at him with her mouth open.

"Who _are_ you?"

"An old friend of your mom's." Daryl said truthfully.

"Did you come to save me?" she asked him hopefully. "To take me to her?"

"Yeah sweetheart, I did." Daryl smiled.

Sophia started really crying then, but they were tears of happiness as she flung herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck in a tight hug.

Though still wearing a worried look, Mary smiled in relief.

* * *

The idea that Ed had plans to kill Carol moved up the whole time line.

Edwin Sr. and his wife had been "delayed" returning home by a "car accident" staged by Merle and Zeke on the secondary road leading to the estate as they were leaving the business dinner party they'd attended that evening. They had only taken one guard with them, acting as their chauffer, not wanting to show any weakness in front of their hosts. When he got out of the car to investigate the delay, he was "detained" and so were the Pelletiers until the Feds arrived.

Andrea and Michonne, posing as lawyer and process server, showed up at the gates, drawing the security staff there, loudly and vehemently claiming they had come to deliver the subpoena and legal papers on Ed for the next round of the custody battle and refused to leave until she could serve them.

Richard let Jerry in through the servants' entrance to guard Sophia and Mary while he and Daryl went after the final bad actor in the little psychodrama that was the Pelletier family.

"You don't think we should wait for the Feds to get here?" Daryl asked Richard as they walked back to the bodyguard's room.

"The Feds _are_ here." Richard said, giving Daryl a meaningful look. "You're not the only one undercover in here going after the Pelletiers, _Dixon_."

"You know who I am." Daryl said. Now it made more sense that he'd sent Sophia to him for help.

"We have extensive files on the whole family—you're involved with Ed's ex— _and_ I happen to follow PRCA." Richard grinned. "You're having a great season, by the way."

"So you weren't here protecting Sophia?" Daryl said, ignoring the compliment and working up to some anger.

"I'd _die_ for that little girl, Dixon." Richard said forcefully. "She's an innocent and these fuckers don't give one god damn about her other than throwing some money around so it looks like they treat her well. They kept her as revenge against her mother, plain and simple."

It was about how Zeke and Jerry had painted the situation as well.

"Any of those fuckers touch her?" Daryl asked, voicing Caro's worst fear.

" _No."_ Richard told him definitively. "They mostly just ignore her. She's never alone with them. The nanny or I are always with her." At Daryl's narrow eyed look telling him he needed more proof, Richard sighed. "We went with her to the pediatrician for her booster shots a few weeks ago. I spoke to the doctor, told her who I really was and asked her to do a full work up. No signs of any physical trauma related to abuse. When the doctor asked her, she said her mom taught her the difference between good touch and bad touch and that as far as her father and grandparents were concerned it was _no_ touch."

Daryl felt a measure of relief that Sophia had people so protective of her when her mother couldn't be with her.

"How could anyone be so cold to that joyful little girl?" Richard shook his head in disbelief.

"You got kids, Rich?" Daryl asked, noting the sadness in the other man's eyes.

"I did." Richard said, and his eyes looked haunted, "Katy. She was three. Leukemia."

The mutual loss of a child bound them together in the task of saving another.

"So let's finish taking them down; you with me?" Richard asked.

Daryl stared at him and then slowly nodded his agreement.

Though it wasn't exactly protocol, Richard told Daryl if they waited for more back up there was a risk the parents would tip off Ed and he would use one of his bolt holes and escape.

"So what do you have in mind?" Daryl asked.

"You know how to handle a gun?" Richard asked, pulling out a key and unlocking the gun safe metal box he'd pulled from under his bed.

In reply Daryl pulled open his leather jacket revealing the 9mm he now carried in a shoulder holster.

Richard nodded and pulled out two full clips, handing one to Daryl who stuck it in his jacket pocket with a nod and then took his gun from its holster.

"Let's go pay old Ed a visit." Richard slammed open his gun, checking the clip and then slammed it back in, pocketing the extra.

* * *

Standing in the hallway outside Ed's bedroom door they listened to the sound of a woman's breathy cries and moans of _"Yes! Harder!"_ and a man's snarls for her to _"Take it!"_ punctuated by the sharp rhythmic slap of flesh on flesh.

Daryl and Richard exchanged a tense look and nod, raising their guns.

Richard used his master key to unlock and slowly push open the bedroom door.

The sight that greeted them was about what they'd expected, though Daryl winced at the red handprint shaped welts on the ass of the woman bent face first over Pelletier's lap as he sat at the head of the bed.

" _Tha's it, bitsh, time to suck m'big dick."_ Ed demanded in a drunken slur, roughly pulling on the woman's long dark hair and forcing her face to his groin with one hand, smiling at her discomfort.

"Oh, Ed—please, it's so huge you're going to _choke_ me—no _please_!" the woman begged in a very poor job of play acting.

Daryl and Richard shared a raised eyebrow look. The half flaccid appendage being discussed was more a cigarillo than a cigar.

Wanting to spare the woman the onerous task, Daryl cleared his throat.

Ed's head slowly rose. Blinking blearily, he frowned at the other two men.

" _Wha'the fuck are you doin' in my room?"_ Ed bellowed, his shortcomings flopping as he rose up off the bed. The wide eyed woman scrambled back towards the head board, red faced with embarrassment.

"What the fuck's going on is that you're _done_ , Ed. Done with hurting Caro and Sophia. You lay hands on them or anyone else again and I will put you _down_." Daryl said, his voice low and deadly, pointing the 9 mm at Ed's heart.

" _Dixon."_ Richard cautioned, concerned at his tone. He didn't want this to get out of hand.

"You're th'piece of _shit_ cowboy tha's been screwin' my stupid bitsh wife!" Ed roared, recognizing Daryl and launching himself at the other man, ignoring the fact that he was being held at gun point.

If Pelletier knew anything about the man facing him, he'd know it was time to stand down, but no one ever said Ed had a lick of brains, not even his parents, especially when he was drunk.

Ed's fist hit nothing but air as Daryl easily ducked it and came back up with a left-handed upper cut right on the point of the bigger man's jaw, laying him out like a cartoon haymaker, spinning down on legs that would suddenly no longer support him, like a big tree topped and cut off at the roots, falling flat, face down.

" _Ex-_ wife, you son of a bitch." Daryl bit out, fist still clenched, staring down at the man who had made Caro's life a living hell for too many years, who had beat down her self esteem and her body and stolen her child.

Richard chuckled as he handed Daryl his handcuffs and nodded. Daryl holstered his gun and knelt to cuff Ed. As he worked, Richard glanced up at the other occupant of the room.

"You all right, Ma'am?" Richard, still holding the gun on Ed until he was fully restrained, asked.

The woman was still on the king sized bed, clutching the sheet to her chest to cover her nudity.

He didn't expect the girlfriend to be much trouble, but the sight of her meal ticket taken out with one punch incensed her.

"You should be putting those on _that_ man! He assaulted my fiancé!" she screeched, pointing at Daryl.

"I saw a man _defending_ himself from an assault." Richard said calmly, "Now would you like to put on some clothes or do you prefer to go down to the station in your skin?"

"Station? What station?" she asked, her eyes darting around the room as if looking to escape.

"You're under arrest for conspiracy to commit murder." Richard told her, pulling a second set of cuffs from his jacket side pocket.

"You can't arrest me! You're just that brat's _body guard_!" Karen wailed, seeming to be both angry and afraid at the same time.

"About that..." Richard reached into his front jacket vest pocket and pulled out a flat leather two fold case and flipped it open.

His badge and FBI picture ID shut her up.

* * *

By ten o'clock the next morning, Mr. and Mrs. Edwin Pelletier Sr., Ed Jr. and his girlfriend, Karen, most of their business staff, the county judge, prosecutor, sheriff and several deputies were all under indictment and in the FBI and Federal Marshal's custody. Charges ranged from bribery, fraud and money laundering to RICO interstate transit and receiving of stolen goods. The most serious was conspiracy to commit murder, based on the conversation that Mary and Sophia had overheard and told first Richard and then Daryl about.

Richard was actually a deep cover FBI agent sent in to investigate the Pelletier family crime enterprise. After Carol was forced out, the family decided to up their security, and getting hired as a bodyguard for Sophia brought him to the estate. When he'd heard Ed's plans for Carol he couldn't let them stand, but had been trying not to blow his cover, so he'd sent Sophia to Daryl, who he had immediately recognized from one of his mission updates on Carol's status.

Mrs. Morales, the social worker assigned to Sophia, opened the door to the police station waiting room, letting Daryl and Andrea come in. She turned to Sophia, who was on one of the couches with Mary, leaning on the older woman's shoulder, her eyes looking huge in her pale freckled face. She'd been able to speak to her mom earlier and Carol was en route.

"As she told you on the phone, your mom will be here later today." Mrs. Morales told her. "And right now the authorities need to take Mary's statement, so she has to leave for a little while. Would you like to wait here with Ms. Harrison and Mr. Dixon?"

"Yes." Sophia said, still a little shaky, but brave, just like Daryl knew she'd be. She was her mother's daughter.

The social worker nodded, excusing herself to go finish the last of the paperwork, telling them she'd be back as soon as the preparations to award Carol custody were done. Mary gave Sophia a quick hug and followed Morales out.

Daryl and Andrea pulled up chairs so they were sitting across from Sophia, the better to speak with her.

"I'm... I really _am_ an old friend of your mom's." Daryl said in as calm a voice as he could manage. All he wanted to do was scoop her up into his arms and tell her she was safe now, but she was wary. The events of the day had transpired so quickly they were all playing catch up.

"She said you're _her_ _Dix_." Sophia said, frowning at him.

Daryl's heart flipped. _What had_ _Carol had told Sophia about him?_

"She always told me stories about him... said he was her _best_ friend when she was little." Sophia narrowed her eyes, "But she had to move away."

"That's right. We just met each other again after a long while—for her job—we sorta work together. She told me about you and I promised I'd help her get you back." Daryl explained.

"She tried, but the judge was a friend of my grandpa and he said no." Sophia said with dry matter of factness.

"Did he tell you that?" Andrea asked. Sophia hadn't been in court for the custody proceedings.

"I know you." the girl said, her forehead creasing in a frown. "You're my mom's lawyer."

"That's right, I'm Ms. Harrison—Andrea." Andrea said.

"Is my mom really okay?" Sophia asked, her mouth trembling. "She cried when I was talking to her."

"She's fine." Andrea assured her, "She just misses you."

"She said she'd been so sad since the judge gave me to Ed and made her go away." Sophia agreed.

Daryl noticed that she didn't call Pelletier Jr., _dad_ any more.

"Did the judge ask you who you wanted to live with?" Andrea asked. She'd been blocked from attending the meeting between the girl and the family court judge by the Pelletier lawyers.

"No. He just asked me about school and my friends... if I would miss them if I moved away to be with my mom."

"And you told him you would?" Daryl asked.

"I told him I didn't have any school friends." she said it with such unerring sad truthfulness that made Daryl want to hug the stuffing out of her.

"No?" Andrea frowned.

"I'm not allowed to have anyone over or go to anyone's house to play or for birthdays. People just stopped asking me." She shrugged again. "I had my pony and Mary and Richard to talk to."

"Your nanny and bodyguard?" Daryl couldn't stop himself from interjecting. "Not your dad or grandparents?"

Sophia looked up at him with her big-eyed too wise for her age gaze. She looked back at Andrea as if asking permission to answer him.

"Go ahead." Andrea nodded. "He really is your mom's old friend—really."

"I didn't see them much." Sophia shrugged at Daryl. "Just at dinner mostly if they're not out to dinner. Not supposed to speak unless spoken to." she parroted someone's strictures on her behavior.

Daryl closed his eyes and made a soft noise of repressed anger.

"He looks mad." Sophia said to Andrea, the line between her brows deepening.

"Not at you, sweetheart." Daryl said, smoothing his features into what he hoped was a calmer face.

"What's gonna happen now?" Sophia asked them. "Will I be able to leave with my mom when she gets here?"

"Since your father and grandparents are being charged with some very serious things and so is the judge who issued it, a new custody order is being put in place, giving full custody to your mom." Andrea explained.

"You'll be livin' with her. All legal like." Daryl said encouragingly.

Instead of looking overjoyed at the idea, Sophia frowned.

"What about Mary and Richard—they didn't do anything wrong—they helped me." she asked.

"That's right." Daryl said, "They're definitely the good guys and the police know that. Did you know Richard is really an FBI guy?"

"Like on X-Files?" Sophia asked, in awe, "That's Mary's favorite show; we watch it on Netflix in her room!"

Daryl raised his eyebrows—he wasn't quite sure that was appropriate viewing for a kid her age—but Andrea just chuckled.

" _Just_ like X-Files." Andrea said, "Though he's more Skinner than Mulder I think."

"You kinda look like Marita Covarrubias..." Sophia observed, tilting her head at the lawyer.

"Thank you—she's very pretty." Andrea said with a smile and Sophia smiled back in shared nerdiness, which did make Daryl chuckle.

"How many horses do you have?" the little girl suddenly asked Daryl.

"Uh, on our ranch we got about half a dozen right now—two mares in foal—so maybe eight soon?" Daryl replied, his forehead creasing, wondering at the abrupt change in topic.

"Are any broke?" The little girl asked, her emerald eyes narrowing as she studied him closely.

"You angling to ride my horses, Miss Sophia?" Daryl chuckled, amused at her pointed question.

"I don't think I could live anywhere there weren't horses to ride." she said, and Daryl wanted to melt right into the floor. One, because she seemed to be assuming she'd be living at his ranch with Carol and two because she'd said it with the same stubborn tilt of her chin as her momma.

"I'll take that under advisement." Daryl said with a slow nod. "Two of the paints are dead broke and three more—quarter horse or thoroughbred crosses-are green broke. One's a mustang overo mare off the range we just got at auction and she's a foundation dam for our rough stock; never gonna be broke."

Sophia nodded thoughtfully.

"You've been a cowboy all your life?" she asked next.

"Started rodeoing when I was eight and been doing it ever since if that's what you're askin'..." Daryl said slowly.

"Back when you knew my mom?"

"That's right, met when we were around ten or so..."

"But she moved away when you were twelve." Sophia interrupted.

Daryl didn't trust himself to speak and merely nodded. It seemed like she and Caro had extensive discussions about him.

"Did you miss her?"

"Every single day." he said sincerely.

"Why didn't you come looking for her?"

"I was just a kid back then." Daryl reminded her.

"If you'd asked your folks, maybe—"

"Didn't really have no folks." Daryl said, trying to make her understand. "My mom passed when I was little n' my dad; well, let's just say he was _glad_ to see your mom and grandma move out of town."

"What about when you were older?' Sophia pressed, "You could've looked for her then."

"Look—I don't know what all your mom told you about them days, but it's real hard to find people who don't _want_ to be found." Daryl told her, "I had no idea where to even start looking...or if she even _wanted_ me to."

"You still could've tried!" Sophia was angry now, starting to cry, "You could've found her and then you'd be my dad—well, not _my_ dad, I wouldn't be me—but... but you'd have had your _own_ little girl and maybe she'd be a lot like me, only happy, because you loved my mom and she'd have been happy all this time because she loved you too!"

She was breaking his heart—spinning out his sweetest dream of the life he'd lost when Caro had disappeared—both of them mourning the little girl that never was.

"I'm sorry Sophia." Daryl apologized. "I'm so sorry..."

Sophia looked at him as tears ran down her face, her lower lip sticking out mutinously.

"You're right—I loved your mom, even though we were just kids—I _still_ love her." Daryl said, his voice warm and gentle, but breaking.

Andrea gave a little sigh.

Sophia wiped at her face with both hands and stared hard at Daryl.

"Can't change what's been—but maybe we can start new?" he offered.

Sophia stood up and gave him a little nod and then lifted her arms, holding them out to him.

Daryl pulled her into a hug and she practically crawled into his lap. He held her there for a minute, but then stood up with her wrapped around him like a little monkey and sat back down with her on the more comfortable couch.

Sophia buried her face in Daryl's neck and he patted her back soothingly telling her everything was going to be okay. When Mary returned she smiled and took the chair Daryl had been sitting in. Mrs. Morales came back with the paperwork a few minutes later Andrea left the room with her, leaving Mary and Daryl to wait with Sophia.

Carol arrived an hour later and found her daughter asleep in Daryl's arms.

* * *

 _Note_ _: Of course actress Laurie Holden portrayed Andrea on TWD and also Marita Covarrubias on the_ _X-Files_ _way back in 1993 or so. The woman knows how to moisturize! She looked exactly the same 17 years later when TWD debuted in 2010._

 _Appearances by TWD people: Richard is from Kingdom & Mary is from Terminus (I believe she was a good person before the place was taken over by the rape/murder barbarians-she was Tasha Yar after all, LOL!)_


	16. Chapter 16: Give me my sin again

Carol and Sophia are reunited, Daryl takes them home and Merle does a little matchmaking...

Thank you so much to those who nominated this for Featured Story of the Week on Nine Lives!

* * *

" _Give me my sin again..."_

Romeo: _"Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purged."  
_ Juliet: _"Then have my lips the sin that they have took?"  
_ Romeo: " _Sin from my lips? Oh trespass sweetly urged. Give me my sin again."  
_ -Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet, Act I Scene 5

* * *

" _Sophia?"_ Carol said softly as she pushed open the door followed in by Andrea. What she saw made her heart melt. Daryl sat up on the couch, his head back, mouth open, fast asleep, with Sophia, also asleep, curled up sideways on his lap with her head on his chest. He had his arms around her so she wouldn't slide off the couch.

"I don't think either of them got any sleep last night." Mary said in a hushed voice, smiling at the picture they made. She stood and held out her hand to Carol.

"We haven't met. I'm Mary, Sophia's nanny."

"Thank you so much for watching over my baby." Carol took her hand and then pulled her in to a hug. She'd already met Richard, the agent who had been acting as bodyguard and he'd quickly explained the situation.

"I still can't believe that all of you did this." Carol said, releasing Mary and then wiping at her tear filled eyes. She'd been overwhelmed since she'd gotten the phone call early this morning from Michonne telling her that she needed to come to Montana. Lori refused to let her go alone, so Shane had driven her all night to get there.

"It was Daryl." Andrea told her. "He brought us all in. We wouldn't be here without him. He put that PI, King on Ed's trail and went in after Sophia undercover."

Biting her lower lip and sniffing Carol shook her head. He had more than made up for any sins she'd thought he'd committed against her. He'd given her baby back to her.

"We'll be in the conference room." Andrea said, knowing Carol would need some time alone with Daryl and Sophia. She touched Mary's arm to get her attention and then the women left.

At the sound of the door closing, Daryl stirred with a quick intake of breath, his arms going tighter about Sophia. When he opened his eyes and saw Carol his face broke into a smile but then shuttered, unsure of his reception.

" _I love you."_ Carol said softly.

Daryl frowned, looking down at the sleeping child and then back up at Carol.

" _You,_ Dix. I _love_ you." Carol said, moving swiftly to the couch to sit down beside Daryl and wrap her arms tightly around both him and Sophia.

Jostled, the little girl woke and squinted up at Carol.

"Mom?" she asked sleepily. "Are we going to live on Dix's ranch now? He said I could bring my ponies."

"When did I say that?" Daryl asked, still little flustered by Caro's declaration.

Sophia pushed on Daryl and Carol's arms and they released her so she could sit up, looking at them both gravely.

"You love him and he loves you so we'll be a family and my ponies are part of the family." Sophia said as if it was the most self evident thing in the world.

"Sophie, honey..." Carol started blushing furiously.

"Your mom and me need to talk about what's next, kiddo." Daryl said, "For now if she says it's okay...," he looked up at Carol, "...maybe we can see about taking Domino and Poppy to my ranch and hole up there for a few days while we figure it all out."

"Poppy?" Carol asked, the rest of what Daryl said refusing to register.

"My new pony—she's dapple gray." Sophia explained, "Dix brought her. He was pretending to be her trainer Sam when he rescued me."

Carol looked at Daryl, her eyes full of thanks for saving her little girl.

Daryl gave her a small smile and dipped his chin in acknowledgement.

* * *

Leaving Carol and Sophia alone to cuddle and talk, Daryl joined the group in the next room who were rehashing the night's events and doing a download on the consequences of what had happened. Seeing Shane standing by the door he went to him and they shook hands in greeting.

Andrea, Michonne, the FBI agent, (whose name really _was_ Richard), Ezekiel, and Merle all sat around a big conference table drinking coffee while Jerry was passing around a box of pastries.

"Want some?" Jerry offered, holding the open box out to Daryl and Shane.

"What are they?" Daryl looked doubtful.

"Apple cobbler Danish—there's a little place on Main that makes them—I'm just about addicted." Jerry told him.

Shane declined, but shrugging, Daryl took one and turned around then straddled a chair. Mary handed him a cup of coffee and after thanking her and taking a sip and a bite he gave both a thumbs up.

" _Jerry,_ we need to get started." Ezekiel admonished his assistant who sat and put the box down in front of him, looking abashed, but also took a Danish out and grinned at Daryl while he ate it.

"The lovely lawyer was just fillin' us in on all the shit these people were into." Merle drawled, raising his mug in a toast to Andrea, who rolled her eyes at him, but that only made him give her a leering wink.

"We found out who filed the new petition for custody—it was Negan's New York lawyers—seems he assumed you were all on board with the new SWW campaign strategy and set them loose." Andrea said.

"So that's what set Ed off?" Daryl asked, drumming his fingers on the table.

"Seems like it." Andrea nodded. "Apparently the very expensive suits strongly hinted that they had evidence to prove that he had gas-lighted Carol to rig the custody process in his favor. The only way to keep her from winning was to take her out."

"Any word on if he actually got as far as putting a hit out on her?" Merle asked. "If we're takin' her and the little girl back to the ranch I need to know."

"Fiancé already took a plea deal in exchange for her testimony. According to her they only talked about it—he needed to get daddy's okay to access the funds to pay for it—think he's got other plans for them now." Richard explained.

"He could still do it." Shane grumbled from his place leaning on the wall. "Only takes a phone call."

"All calls are being monitored. He knows we know what he planned to do so he's our main suspect if anything goes down. That should be a deterrent." Richard said.

"Yeah, well—she gets hurt; she dies; she catches a fever; she gets hit by lightning— _Anything_ happens to her, I'm comin' after him." Daryl growled adamantly.

"And _he's_ the sweet one." Merle crowed, slapping Daryl on the shoulder.

"Just to be on the safe side, we'll be providing some extra patrols around your ranch and other workplaces for awhile." Richard told them all.

"Is that really necessary?" Michonne asked.

"It's the least we can do. The United States government would like to thank you all for your help on this case." Richard said. "We've been after them for years. With what we already knew, the information Mr. King provided along with the intelligence I was able to gather while undercover should make a strong case against their whole operation here."

"After what they did to Carol and Sophia, I hope they're all put away for a _long_ time." Jerry piped up.

"Their assets are frozen, and as flight risks they should be denied bail and their passports confiscated." Andrea told them. "Add to that their lawyers are also under indictment so they'll have to seek new counsel."

"And who knows what a judge they haven't bought and paid for will say?" Ezekiel quipped and they all chuckled.

"Can I borrow Sam's rig a couple more days? Daryl asked Ezekiel next. "Soph wants to take her ponies with us."

"Already loaded and ready to go." Richard said.

"Wait—aren't they part of the frozen assets?" Michonne asked.

"They never made final payment for Poppy and Domino was no longer their property _before_ the arrests." Richard said, pulling the papers that Daryl had given Mrs. P. had earlier and another set from the folder on the table on front of him and handing them to Daryl.

"What did you _do_?" Andrea gasped.

"You owe Uncle Sam eight thousand dollars." Richard said to Daryl with a wink, "I told them you'd be good for it."

"What're them damn ponies made outa? _Gold?_ " Merle sputtered.

"They _win_ gold medals." Daryl said, "Both champions. Don't matter to Soph though—she just loves 'em."

"Then I guess it's time we hit the blacktop, brother." Merle said, rising from his chair, "You go get your woman and her expensive as fuck pony-pet lovin' kid."

* * *

Carol's first glimpse of the Dixon ranch was from the cab of the pickup Daryl was driving pulling the horse trailer. Sophia would've ridden in the back with the ponies if they'd let her, but sitting between her mom and Daryl was the next best thing. Shane was driving Carol's car to Phoenix where it would be taken by the SWW rodeo group and moved on to the next venue with her rig until they rejoined the Team. Everyone else was heading home as well. Sophia had a tearful goodbye with Richard and Mary, her only friends, but Carol promised she'd make sure they saw each other again soon.

When they passed under a wrought iron arched ranch sign with "Dixon" in bold western style letters at the entrance, Carol stole a glance at Daryl and he was quietly smiling...

Sophia was still snoozing, sitting in the middle, resting her head on her mother's shoulder, but they promised they'd wake her when they got to the ranch, so Carol gently reached down and shook her leg.

The little girl made a grumpy noise and shifted her head and body so she was leaning up against Daryl instead, which made him chuckle.

"She trusts you already." Carol said, a bit wonderingly. Though Sophia had been a cuddly child, Ed had discouraged her attempts to hug him early on and neither of her grandparents was very demonstrative either. Carol tried to make up for it by being extra loving, but she'd worried that her daughter had a hard time when she left. She was glad for the presence of her two guardians, but it wasn't the same.

"I was lucky enough to be there when she needed me." Daryl said simply. He slowed the pickup to pass over the cattle guard and then the house, stable and barns came into view.

" _Daryl!"_ Carol exclaimed and that made Sophia sit up and look at her mom with concern.

"What's wrong?" Sophia asked, rubbing her eyes and yawning. When she got no response she followed her mother's sight line out the front windshield. "Oh wow, cool house!"

The large log home rose two full stories and had a wraparound porch with several Adirondack style chairs sitting along its length. Big baskets overflowing with purple and yellow flowers hung from the porch ceiling rafters next to the porch stairs, framing the entrance in color. An older gray haired woman wearing an apron stood in the porch doorway, looking at the new arrivals in anticipation.

"You need to help me unload your critters before Irma gets her hooks into you." Daryl told Sophia in a tone of command even as he waved at the woman but continued on past the house to head for the stables.

"Irma?" Carol asked, craning her neck back to look at the woman who now had her hands on her hips and was shaking her head.

"She's the cook and housekeeper—keeps Merle n' me in line—her husband Dale is the ranch foreman." Daryl explained. "He'll be out workin' with the hands this time of day, probably on pasture fencing."

"It's a really big place." Sophia said, scrunching up her nose. "I thought you only had six horses."

"Got some cattle too." Daryl said with a shrug, pulling up to a stop in front of the stable doors.

"How _many_ cattle, Dix?" Carol had to ask. It was pasture land and grazing beef cattle as far as the eye could see.

"Have to ask Merle. I ain't been home in awhile." Daryl said evasively and then unbuckled his seat belt. "Come on, Soph."

Merle had pulled in beside them and already had the side doors of the horse trailer open, checking on the ponies.

"That gray's a nervous Nellie." Merle said, putting a lead rope on the little Welsh mare that shied back, blowing air out of her nostrils in a frightened snort.

"I'll take her—you help Soph with Domino." Daryl told him.

"I can do it." Sophia declared and ran around the back of the trailer with the lead rope she'd had with her in the cab the whole way there. By the time Merle got there she already had the rope on, the trouble snap undone and was ready to unload the smaller pony.

"You done this before." Merle said approvingly and Sophia's face lit up in a grin. Merle's loud ways had scared her a bit at first, but she was warming to him. He went to the back, opened the gates, lowered the ramp and then unhooked the butt bar that helped keep the horses in place while the gates were open.

"Take Poppy first." Sophia said, "Domino can wait."

"Ah right." Daryl said and slowly backed the bigger pony out of the trailer. Only when she was away from the ramp did Sophia unload Domino. As soon as she was out she gave a shrill pony whiny, making Sophia try to shush her. It brought the other horses in the corral close to the fences, curious to get a look at who was making all the noise. An older mare heavy with foal whickered back at the small pony and stuck her head over the railing. Domino struggled against Sophia's hold, trying to go over to the mare, but she gave her halter a quick jerk to remind her who was boss and she calmed immediately.

"Looks like we got us a real cowgirl here, brother!" Merle chuckled to Daryl, who was holding the other pony.

Daryl smiled somewhat proudly and nodded, and then looked over at Carol.

Carol smiled back, marveling at how well they all worked together. Her daughter was much more at ease and in control around the huge creatures than she thought she would ever be. She felt a tug at her heart seeing how happy Sophia and Daryl were.

"Got a couple of empty stalls for us?" Daryl asked Merle, who nodded and headed into the stable.

Daryl and Sophia followed with the ponies with Carol a respectful distance behind. She'd been around horses enough to know you didn't crowd up behind them unless you wanted to risk a flying hoof connecting. As herd animals, they had a strong fight or flight response and would defend themselves if surprised.

"Can I help?" Carol called, wanting to show them she was on board with the whole horse thing as she watched them start taking the travel boots and blankets off the ponies.

"You ain't allergic to anything, mouse?" Merle asked, somewhat sarcastically.

"No—why?" Carol frowned at him.

"Yer eyes are all red and leakin'—lotsa people are allergic to hay or straw or sawdust, hell even horse dander sets 'em off." Merle said.

"She's been Rodeoing for weeks, Merle. If she was allergic to any of that shi—stuff, we'd know." Daryl defended her.

"She'd not leaking, she's happy." Sophia proclaimed, "She cries when she's happy or sad. It's a thing."

Merle cocked his head at her and gave her a squinting look.

Carol wiped her eyes and nodded in agreement with Sophia.

"Fine—little brother can take you up and show you how to do the hay." Merle pointed to a ladder about halfway down the aisle.

Daryl hung both horse blankets and sets of boots on racks built into the front of the stalls and told Sophia to help Merle check the ponies for any trailering injuries and then groom them. The girl didn't quite salute, but she came to attention and grinned up at him, happy to be trusted with the responsibilities.

Carol followed Daryl to the ladder, but he motioned for her to go up first. When they got to the top and stepped off up into the attic looking rafters where the hay was stacked in small rectangular bales, she felt his arms go around her from behind, holding her gently, his forehead pressed to the crown of her head.

They hadn't really been alone since she'd had her reunion with Sophia. By unspoken agreement, her welfare had been both their focus since then, knowing she needed to feel secure that she wouldn't suddenly be separated from Carol again. Other than when Carol had embraced them both on the couch, she and Daryl hadn't really touched either. Despite her declaration of love, there were still open wounds they'd inflicted on each other that needed to be healed.

"I'm sorry." Daryl said.

"I know." Carol's hands went up to cover Daryl's, giving them a tentative squeeze.

"Thought you were tellin' me you had to do it all on your own—didn't want to have to rely on another man to swoop in and save the day—I fucked it up and I'm so sorry."

"And you're filthy stinking rich." Carol sighed, "How could I not know that?"

"Kinda glad you didn't." Daryl admitted.

"So you know I love you for your body instead?" Carol teased, but instead of laughing Daryl stiffened and pulled her closer.

" _Say it again."_ he whispered, his mouth moving to her ear.

" _I love you, Dix."_ Carol breathed, tears pricking her eyes again. He had done the impossible, returned her daughter to her and made sure the Pelletiers would be held accountable for their crimes. She had already been half in love with him before that, but that made it impossible not to fall the rest of the way.

"And you forgive me my sins against you?" he asked, like a penitent begging for absolution.

"Just tell me you love me too." she asked, "That's all I need."

"I do, so much..." he turned her so they were face to face and framed her face in his hands, looking deep into her eyes, "I love you, Caro. Always have. From the moment I saw you with that damn lemon n' scrappin' with those bullies."

"Kisses are good too—for forgiveness of sins." Carol smiled up at him.

Daryl needed no further prompting. When their lips met it was with tender passion, sweet and ragged with need. They'd only been apart two days, but it felt like a homecoming of lovers separated by the distance of oceans or insurmountable obstacles who had made it through on their sheer will alone.

"Might have to keep sinning if that's the penance..." Daryl sighed, continuing the kisses over her jaw and down to her neck.

* * *

"They've been up there a long time and I don't see any hay yet." Sophia observed idly as she stood in Domino's stall brushing her down.

Merle just chuckled, holding the hose in the water buckets he was going to hang in the stalls.

"You think they're kissing?" Sophia asked.

" _You_ think they are?" Merle fired right back.

"I hope so." Sophia sighed.

"Just 'coz you wanna stay here?" Merle asked slyly.

Sophia contemplated that for a bit, continuing with her brushing.

"Not _just._ " she said.

"You want to see your mom be happy—I want the same for my brother." Merle nodded.

Sophia squinted up at him.

"That's why you sent them up to get the hay?" she asked perceptively.

Merle just grinned. He finished with the water and put the full buckets in the stalls. Sophia moved to the other pony and brushed her thoroughly as well. When she finished she looked inquiringly at Merle.

"Reckon they had enough time to make up and get reacquainted." he said and then raised his voice, "Still waitin' on that hay down here—got some hungry little critters—what's the hold up?"

After a couple more minutes two flakes of hay each fell down through the hole above each pony's stall and into their mangers. Then a few minutes later Carol came back down the ladder, lips swollen and cheeks pink, followed by a similar looking Daryl.

"Guess you two kissed and made up all nice and sweet like." Merle said, shit-eating grin in place, happy with himself.

"Shut the fu—just shut up, Merle." Daryl growled, but put his arm around Carol's shoulders.

"Irma's probably fit to be tied we haven't brought your girls to the house yet; you all go along up and I'll finish chores and park the rig." Merle said in a sort of apology, waving his hand towards the house.

Sophia closed up Poppy's stall and went to Daryl, cozying up to his other side and giving him a half hug. Surprised, he put his arm around her shoulders too and they all three started towards the house.

It was not lost on Merle that if Daryl's child with Rosita had lived, it would've been about the same age as Carol's little girl. He hoped that the boy knew what he was taking on; deep feelings were bound to be stirred up... for _all_ of them.

* * *

Thanks for reading! More to come...


	17. Chapter 17: Homecoming

_Carol and Sophia are welcomed to the Dixon ranch._

* * *

 _Homecoming_

Irma Horvath was a motherly force of nature.

After greeting Daryl, Carol and Sophia with hearty hugs, she sent them off to get cleaned up before dinner. Carol found the bag of things from Daryl's rig she had quickly packed waiting for her in the guest bedroom as well as the small suitcase and duffle of Sophia's things Richard had brought her from the estate when he'd smuggled the ponies out.

Daryl had given her a wistful smile when he'd paused in the hall before going to his room, making her realize she hadn't considered the sleeping arrangements that would be necessary now that Sophia was with her. Spending her nights in Daryl's arms might be a thing of the past, at least for the immediate future.

Sophia was taking her turn in the shower, after informing her mother that she took them on her own now and didn't need any help. Carol mourned the time together they had missed. Soph had grown up so much in the last few months.

The water shut off and she heard the curtain draw back so she busied herself pulling clean clothes out of her bag so she could take her turn.

" _Mom?"_ Sophia called from the bathroom, sounding frustrated. "I forgot to bring my underwear in."

Carol smiled. Maybe her baby did still need her for _some_ things.

* * *

Hair still damp, Daryl walked into the kitchen, dressed in old jeans and an old faded gray plaid western shirt with the sleeves ripped off. He'd been drawn by the wonderful smells of Irma's roast and pie. It looked like she'd gone all out and prepared a feast for the homecoming. She stood at the stove whisking what was probably gravy, the plates, glasses and silverware still stacked on the counter. Daryl picked them up and started setting the table.

"Good to see you remember your manners." Irma said approvingly. "Don't forget the napkins."

"Yes ma'am." he replied.

"Your girls aren't vegan or anything, are they?" she asked, sounding a little worried. "I have salad fixin's and green beans and I baked the potatoes in their jackets instead of mashing them just in case."

"Caro eats meat..." Daryl said, "Sophia had chicken fingers when we stopped for lunch on the way here."

"Oh good!" Irma said, relieved, "How about allergies?"

"Don't know—Uh, Caro said she ain't allergic to barn stuff—hay and such." he offered. "Sophia too; she rides."

"I meant _food_ allergies, Daryl." Irma smiled.

"Oh—don't know that." he deflated. "Can go ask." he turned away from the table.

"Napkins?" Irma reminded him.

"What do you want—me to go ask them or to finish the table?" Daryl asked, sounding irritated. When Irma gave him a raised eye brow look he wilted. "Sorry—just tired I guess."

"Go to your girls. Let me know if there's anything on the menu they can't eat and we'll scrounge them up something else." Irma said patiently.

Daryl walked over to her and held out his arms.

"I really am sorry to throw this all at you out of the blue." he said, his mouth turned down apologetically.

"Nonsense." she said, letting him draw her into an embrace. "There's always room here for people you love." she patted his shoulders. "Speaking of which, Abraham called to check in—you need to call him back and let him know if you're scratching from Phoenix."

Daryl had been putting off deciding what to do about the rest of the season. He needed to talk to Carol about her plans. Now that she had Sophia, they could tell Negan to go jump, but that might mean she was out of a job. She was welcome to stay here at the ranch as long as she wanted— _forever_ if he had a say in it—but knew there was a lot for her to consider.

"Thanks, I will." Daryl said and released Irma. She gave him a whap on his rear with a dish towel to send him on his way, and he did, even while rubbing his butt cheek with a pout.

Carol was sitting on the bed working on French braiding Sophia's hair when he knocked on the open door frame.

"Hey." Daryl said softly in greeting, smiling at the domestic scene.

"Hi Dix!" Sophia chirped. "Do you like my hair? I missed my mom doing it."

"Looks real pretty, kiddo." Daryl said, sharing a smile with Carol as she finished off the braid, fastening it with a green elastic hair-tie.

"Not supposed to be pretty." Sophia scoffed, reaching a hand up to feel the tight braid. "It fits under my helmet real good for competition done like this. You don't want it flopping around in your eyes, especially when you're jumping."

"So you only ride hunt seat?' Daryl asked, "Thought you were gonna be a cowgirl."

"You'll just have to teach me how." Sophia said, and then her look turned sly, "And you can teach my mom to ride too."

"Any time she wants to ride, she can let me know." Daryl teased and then grinned when Carol blushed at the double entendre that went over Sophia's head.

"Is dinner ready?" Carol asked, changing the subject.

"Supposed to ask if you're allergic to anything." Daryl remembered.

"Not that I know of." Carol said, but looked to Sophia. Sometimes allergies developed later or when you were exposed to something you hadn't eaten before.

"Nope." Sophia said, patting her tummy. "Mary says I have a cast iron stomach."

"Irma will be relieved." Daryl grinned. "She's cooking up a storm."

"Yay!" Sophia cried, dancing away from Carol and over to Daryl, "I'm _starving_! I could eat a _horse_ —never would, but I _could_!" she tugged on Daryl's shirt, her voice demanding, "Piggyback!"

Daryl looked to Carol for permission, and when she just smiled he crouched down so Sophia could climb on. She was a very physical child, always cuddling and touching. She must've been starving for it in that house without Carol. Thank god she had Mary and Richard. He needed to check with the FBI man to make sure the woman had a good new job. She had nothing to do with any of the criminal enterprises the Pelletiers were involved in and had been vital to Sophia's well being.

"Giddy-up!" Sophia said playfully and wrapped her skinny arms around his neck.

Daryl hooked his arms under her legs and pretended to rear back with a snort before taking off at a canter down the hall while Soph giggled her head off.

Carol sighed as she stood to follow them, using the other hair-tie on her wrist to secure her damp curls back off her face in a pony tail as she walked.

* * *

At dinner they met Irma's husband, the ranch foreman, Dale. Like Irma he was a salt of the earth type, white haired, with an aristocratic hawk nose and piercing dark eyes that missed nothing. They had come with the ranch when the Dixon brothers inherited it and had been on the land for thirty years. It was obvious that Daryl and Merle had a respectful but jovial relationship with them and that extended to how they related to Carol and Sophia.

"This is the best roast I ever had, Mrs. Irma." Sophia said enthusiastically, on her second helping of everything.

"Thank you Miss Sophia." Irma said with a wink at Daryl. "It's Daryl's favorite."

"Was it one of your cows, Dix?" Sophia asked around a mouthful of food.

"Manners, Soph." Carol reminded her. "Don't talk with your mouth full."

Sophia chewed and swallowed before responding.

"Sorry mom." she said, and then took a big drink of milk before continuing. "Was it?" she asked Daryl again.

"It's our beef." Merle answered for him. "You ain't gonna get squeamish about it, are you?"

"Nope." Sophia said, stabbing another piece of roast. "You have tasty cows."

Carol and Daryl shook their heads but smiled.

"Yep, she's gonna make a right good cowgirl." Merle laughed.

"Got some nice show ponies there." Dale said to Sophia as he buttered a fresh roll. "You plan on competing?"

"I was in Pony Club back... back where we came from." Sophia said and then she picked up her roll and buttered it, copying Dale.

"Have 4-H around these parts." Dale said. I was a leader for the local club a while back—I could put in a word if you like—have someone call you."

"Thank you, but I'm not sure..." Carol said haltingly, looking at Daryl and then Sophia and biting her lower lip, "I'm not sure how long we'll be here."

" _Mom?"_ Sophia's good mood went up in smoke and she dropped her knife with a clatter.

"That's fine dear, we understand. You and Daryl just need to sit down tonight and do some talking." Irma interjected, trying to keep the situation from deteriorating further.

"But you love him! And he loves you!" Sophia wailed, pushing back from the table and looking at her mother like she'd just cancelled Christmas.

"Sophia, that's enough." Carol said curtly. "If you can't calm down you can be done with supper and go to bed."

" _Fine."_ Sophia bit out, threw down her napkin and ran upstairs. The slam of the bedroom door made Daryl wince.

"I'm so sorry about that." Carol said unhappily. "This has all been a lot of change for her to take in..."

"Now don't you worry about it." Irma soothed. "Daryl, why don't you and Carol take a walk while I put dessert together, show her a little more of the ranch. Go on now."

Taking the hint Daryl rose and helped Carol with her chair. Giving everyone another apologetic look she let him propel her towards the front door.

"Maybe I should go check on her." Carol said, hesitating at the threshold.

"I'll wait for ya if you need to before we go." Daryl nodded. He wasn't about to tell her how to raise her kid.

"I don't know—she should probably have some alone time—can we just sit on the porch?" Carol said, "That way she'll be able to find me if she needs to."

"Whatever you need, Shortcake." Daryl said, resting his left hand at the small of her back while opening the door with the right, "Got some comfy chairs out here."

Carol took the closest Adirondack chair and Daryl sat beside her in the next one.

"So... guess we need to talk..." Daryl said slowly.

"About what Dix? How I'm pretty much broke and can never pay you back for everything you've done for us? That Sophia and I have no place to stay because I gave up my apartment to save money since I was going to be on the road all year? How my ex-husband will probably _not_ be paying child support from _prison_? How if I keep my job I have to betray you and all of our friends?" Carol sounded overwhelmed and hopeless.

"You know you and Soph are welcome here for as long as you need to stay." Daryl said sincerely, taking her hand in his and addressing what seemed the most pressing concern.

"But _you_ still have to _go_ , don't you? The rodeo in Phoenix starts tomorrow and you need those points to stay in the running." Carol kept track of the whole Team's schedule, especially Daryl's.

"Not if you need me here." Daryl said, but then he leaned closer. "Or you know, it's summer, she's out of school; she could come with us."

"What?" Carol frowned.

"Look—whether we work for SWW or not, I'm still ridin' and I still want you with me on the road. If Negan won't back off and he fires us all n' takes all his shit back, I'll hire Walker to do _my_ PR and we can get our own rig so Soph's got a home away from home, it'd be great—educational—traveling around n' seein' the country."

"I'd be working for you?" Carol asked, still frowning.

"You'd still be working for Michonne, just like you been, but without Negan footing' the bill." Daryl said. "I want to be with you, Caro, any way we gotta work it. Sophia's part of the package."

"This is all going so fast..." Carol said.

" _Too_ fast?" Daryl asked.

"Well, you're changing your whole life for me and we haven't even..." Carol broke off, looking away guiltily.

"Hey, you think that's all I'm after with you?" Daryl asked her, squeezing her hand gently.

"I know it's important to you." she replied, her gaze still lowered.

"Yeah, I've had lots of sex—never tried to hide that from you—but that's just physical release. It's like gettin' high. Feels good while you're doin' it, but feels empty as hell after. If that's all I wanted, I'd still be married to Rosita."

"Then what _do_ you want?" Carol asked, raising her eyes to meet his.

"I want _you_. I want _us_." Daryl said, his voice falling into that low register that made her heart pound faster. "Is that what you want?"

Carol stared at him a long time, her big blue eyes filled with conflicting emotions.

"Yes... but... I can't just do what I want." She finally said, "I have to think of my daughter too."

"Already said I know she's part of the package—and hell, she already thinks I'm pretty great." Daryl gave her a smile that was just a lift of one side of his mouth.

"You're her cowboy knight in shining armor." Carol smiled back an equal small smile. "Mine too."

"You're stronger than you know—you're the one who rode to my rescue when we were kids—it's what we do." Daryl reminded her.

"I didn't stand up to Ed... or Negan..." Carol protested, ashamed.

"Because they held Sophia hostage in one way or another." Daryl said, "That's over: she's here, she's safe. You're allowed to have a life, to choose to be _happy_."

Carol gripped his hand more tightly, making him lean closer.

"I'm not sure I know how." Carol said, trying to be honest with him. "Every time I thought I was, it all went wrong."

"You don't have to be afraid, sweetheart, I'm a sure thing." Daryl smiled and leaned close enough to kiss her, gentle and persuasive and over way too quickly.

Carol swayed towards him involuntarily, even as he leaned back to speak.

"I'm leaving for Phoenix in the morning. I'll be back in a few days. You and Soph can stay here or come with—up to you—but I need to ride to stay in it." Then he stood and kissed her hand before releasing it and putting his hands in his front pockets.

" _Dix..."_

"Get some rest, Caro. I'm gonna go check on Soph's ponies." Daryl said quietly and went off the porch, down the steps and out into the yard, heading towards the stables.

Carol raised her fingers to touch her lips as she sat and watched him moving with easy grace, striding off into the twilight.

* * *

 _Will Carol take the leap of faith she needs to be with Daryl or has she been too hurt to trust?_


	18. Chapter 18: Phoenix

At the Phoenix rodeo Daryl mulls over some important decisions about the future while Carol readjusts to having Sophia back living with her and considers what it means to her relationship with Dix.

* * *

 _Phoenix_

Abraham Ford checked his phone _again_ as he stood in the baggage claim area of Phoenix Sky Harbor airport. Dixon had said he would text when he landed, but there was still no message from him or any response to the texts he'd sent even though the damn monitors said the 7:45 a.m. charter flight had landed ten minutes ago.

They were already pushing it time-wise to get him to the Rodeo grounds for his event check in, so he dialed, knowing it would just go to voice mail if Daryl had forgotten to take his phone off airplane mode, but trying it anyhow.

"Where the fuck are you, buddy?" Abe growled into his cell, "I'm at baggage claim four—shake a leg—we're on a deadline here."

His phone beeped the signal for a text just as the luggage carousel lights started blinking to announce the imminent arrival of the luggage from Daryl's flight. He checked the phone and chuckled at the typical Dixon bluntness.

 _Landed. Stopped to take a piss._

"Wow! Your hair is _really_ orange!"A child's voice said from behind him and Abe rolled his eyes before plastering a fake smile on his face and turning around. It wouldn't be the first time the curse of being a super ginger had caused comment.

When he looked, he saw a strawberry blonde waif gazing up at him in fascination. What made his eyes go wide though was the fact that the kid was standing in between and holding hands with Daryl _and_ Carol.

"Told you," Daryl smirked. "Sophia, this is my friend Abraham Ford and Abe, this is Carol's daughter."

"It's like clown hair." the kid continued staring, amazed.

" _Sophia."_ Carol said in warning. "Manners."

"But _mom_!" Sophia protested, looking between her mom and Abe, but Carol continued to give her stern mom-face until she apologized.

"She's right Soph." Daryl said, "Sorry Abe."

"I'm sorry Mr. Abe." Sophia echoed. "You have real... _interesting_ hair."

"Why thank you kindly, Freckles." Abe teased and then gestured towards the baggage carousel. "You got luggage comin'?"

"I have a suitcase and my mom has a duffle and Dix has a backpack. They had to get x-rayed and so did we!" Sophia explained. Never having flown before, she'd been fascinated by the whole check in procedure, asking lots of questions and proudly presenting her ticket and boarding pass to the TSA agent. The whole thing was a wonderful adventure to her.

When their bags came out first in the queue with "Priority" tags on them, Abe gave Daryl a raised eyebrow look. It wasn't often that Daryl flew instead of driving to a venue, but the time crunch had made it necessary. Purchasing first class tickets—something he never did for himself—meant that Dixon was spoiling Carol and the little girl shamelessly.

Daryl met Abe's eyes and gave him a challenging look back, daring him to comment on the expense of the seats.

Abe just grinned at him knowingly.

"Are we ready?" Abe asked, and when they all nodded yes, he led them towards the exit doors.

The SWW King cab pickup truck was waiting at the curb for them, with a surprise sitting in it.

"Olivia?" Carol exclaimed happily when the other woman got out of the cab and came around to give Carol a hug while Daryl and Abe stowed the luggage in the back, bungeeing it down.

"Hello!" Olivia said, relinquishing her hold on Carol to look at the little girl, "And this is your Sophia! Welcome!"

"Are you Mrs. Abe?" Sophia asked, looking up at her curiously while holding out her hand.

Olivia's eyes went wide and she blushed as she shook the girl's hand.

"Sophia, this is our friend Olivia." Carol said in introduction. It was a hopeful sign that Olivia and Abe had come _together_ to pick them up, but she wasn't going to attach any special meaning to it yet.

"Hello." Sophia said politely.

"Ready to go, hon?" Abe asked, coming up behind Olivia and putting his hands on her shoulders and then leaning down to brush a kiss to her still pinkened cheek.

Carol and Daryl exchanged a raised eyebrow smile over Sophia's head.

"Mmm hmm." Olivia squeaked out, nodding yes, the clear show of affection from Abe deepening her blush.

"Let's roll then—we still got about a twenty minute ride in rush hour traffic to the rodeo grounds and Dix has to check in, in person, by nine or they'll scratch him."

Daryl, Carol and Sophia climbed in the second row of seats, leaving shotgun for Olivia, who looked flustered but happy.

* * *

"So you and Olivia." Daryl said laconically, but with underlying challenge as he waited in line with Abe to have their entries confirmed.

"You got a problem with it?" Abe asked him a bit defensively.

"You hurt her and I do." Daryl said, his gaze steely. "She's good people; a friend."

"She's more... to _me_." Abe said, and then he grunted and shook his head. "I know it sounds nuts, but she just _gets_ me. Makes me feel, I don't know, safe somehow... like no matter what? She'd have my back. She busts my balls and makes me laugh and, _fuck_ man, in bed?"

"Don't need to know—" Daryl winced and tried to forestall him from further more intimate details, ironic because he'd personally witnessed the man having sex six ways to Sunday, but Abe wasn't done.

"I _feel it_ with her, brother." he put his hand over his heart and gave Daryl a look of wonder, "In _here_... it don't feel empty no more, after... and I thank the great cosmic Pete for givin' me another chance at bein' happy."

"After just a couple of days?" Daryl gave him a narrow eyed look. As far as he knew, their first time together had been when he and Carol had accidentally seen them kissing the night they'd found out about the incident with Paul.

"When it's right, you know it." Abe shrugged and then bumped him with his shoulder. "Not all of us have to carry a torch for twenty years."

Daryl grunted. He couldn't argue with the truth. He'd never gotten over Caro.

"You thinkin' about it? Settlin' down?" Abe asked.

"You think things are settled?" Daryl returned, sounding unsure.

"You show up with Carol and her kid, looks like it to me." Abe said.

"Her job is here—with the Team—she needed to get back to work." Daryl said.

After she'd put Sophia to bed last night, Carol had knocked on his bedroom door and told him she wanted to go with him to Phoenix as long as Sophia could come as well. She knew she couldn't avoid the showdown that was coming with Negan by hiding out at the ranch and he was proud of her for facing it head on. What she didn't say was that she was coming back for any reason other than work.

"Yeah, but she's here for you too, buddy." Abe said. "I've seen the way she looks at you. She loves you."

"And I love her, but she's scared, brother." Daryl sighed, "Life's fucked her over, maybe too many times. She doesn't think she deserves to be happy."

"Well, you'll just have to prove her wrong then." Abe chuckled, whacking him on the shoulder.

" _Next?"_ an eccentrically mustached man seated at the table taking entries called out.

Daryl turned towards him, realizing they'd made it to the front of the line.

"Oh, hey Dixon, Ford—glad to see you made it." the man said and then started rummaging through the box of competitor numbers in front of him.

"Axel. How's it hangin'?" Abe said jovially, taking the number Axel handed him.

"Not too bad—didn't see you at the Watering Hole last night—you two already gettin' busy with that sweet Rosita?" Axel smirked.

"Just came in this morning." Daryl responded, holding out his hand for a number, ignoring the mention of his ex-wife.

"No more Rosita." Abe said at almost the same time. "Dixon's got a sweet little steady gal now."

Axel paused in his search and gave them a skeptical raised eyebrow look.

Daryl glared at Abe for broadcasting his personal business, but then smiled and nodded.

"Well, she must be quite a lady if she snagged a pussy hound like him." Axel chuckled, "Guess it's up to you n' me to pick up the slack then, Ford." he said and reached up to shape the handle bars of his mustache suggestively.

Daryl snorted out a laugh. The scrawny former bronc rider fancied himself a lady's man, but Axel was mostly just a big talker.

"Sorry, bub, got me one too." Abe said, grinning like an idiot. "And no—it ain't the _same_ one." he added when Axel's eyes narrowed speculatively. Everyone had heard that the men double-teamed more women than a pair of ropers looped calves at spring branding.

At that news Axel blinked a few times rapidly and his eyebrows went even higher.

"Dixon n' Ford both got steady gals—shit—that right there might be a sign of the Apocalypse." Axel muttered to himself as he went back to looking for Daryl's number. He pulled it and held it out.

Daryl took the card stock rectangle with a nod of thanks.

"Stop by the Denim Dreams camp tonight, Axe, we'll introduce you." Abe offered, holding out his hand for a shake.

"Thank you kindly." Grinning, Axel slapped his hand into Abraham's.

Axel gave them a nod and Daryl gave him a one fingered salute, which made Abe laugh as he released Axel's hand.

"Next!" Axel called, effectively dismissing Abe and Daryl.

* * *

"It's dusty in here, mama." Sophia said, wrinkling her nose as she wiped her finger across the small kitchen table.

"Guess the maid took a day or two off." Carol said lightly but looked around her RV and sighed. She hadn't spent much time in here for the last few weeks. It had been easier to keep her few things at Daryl's and just stop in here when she needed an extra change of clothes.

"You have a maid?" Sophia scrunched up her nose.

"Yep—her name is _Carol._.." Carol said and went to the cupboard beside the sink and pulled out a caddy of cleaning supplies. "...and her _assistant_ is Miss Sophia."

To her relief Sophia didn't whine or argue. She had worried that her daughter might've gotten spoiled; used to being waited on hand and foot in the Pelletier mansion.

"Can I dust? I like dusting." Sophia said, coming closer to the caddy of supplies as Carol set them on the table.

"You do?" Carol frowned. "What did you dust?"

"Mary let me help Bridgette if I got all my homework done." Sophia rested her hands on the edge of the table, waiting for Carol to tell her what to do. "She let me use the feather duster on the low stuff while she got on the ladder and did the high stuff. It was fun."

"I see..." Carol said slowly, "So your... so Ed and your grandparents let your nanny assign you _chores_?"

"They didn't care." Sophia shrugged. "They were never there, hardly... I like helping. You remember Bridgette. She was nice. She told me about Ireland and sang while we dusted."

Carol looked at her little girl. She may not have had any her own age, but she'd had friends amongst the servants in that cold house.

"Well, since you're such an experienced duster that can be your job." Carol agreed, handing her the spray and a cloth.

"Yay! The whole place?" Sophia asked happily.

"Yep. I'll get the high stuff you can't reach later—no climbing." Carol ordered. She put her hands on her hips, thinking for a little bit and then walked back to the bedroom area. The bed was rumpled and there were three used condoms and ripped packages in the small bedside garbage can. She snorted a little and shook her head, stripping the bed and pulling the liner out of the garbage and knotting it shut. She checked the bathroom next, added the dirty towels there to her basket and emptied its garbage can as well. She carried everything to the kitchen, resigning herself to a Laundromat trip soon and then took the Lysol and rubber gloves back to disinfect all the bathroom surfaces.

"Mom?" Sophia called.

"Yes?"

"There's a weird little balloon on the floor beside the couch." the girl said, sounding perplexed.

" _Don't touch it!"_ Carol yelled, cursing out Abraham Ford as she hurried down the hall carrying the bathroom garbage can.

Sophia looked up at her guiltily, her hand still reaching for the "balloon" discarded on the floor. Sure enough there was also an opened foil packet resting on the end table next to the couch.

Carol heard the key in the door and looked over at it as it swung open.

"Oh! I thought you went to get some breakfast!" Olivia said, shocked to see them there. Her eyes went to what Sophia had been reaching for and she blanched and rushed forward.

"Wait!" Olivia cried. "Don't!"

"Is it _your_ balloon?" Sophia asked the flustered woman.

"Oh god! I am so sorry! We didn't know you were coming back so soon—I meant to get in here and clean up before—" Olivia babbled, quickly pulling a couple of Kleenex out of her pocket and scooping up the remnant of her obviously busy time with Abe there.

"Any more places I need to look for _balloons_?" Carol asked, her voice tight, "I already found the _three_ in the bedroom."

"Um..." Olivia pushed her glasses up on her nose and her eyes drifted to the kitchenette. Sure enough, there was another on the floor under the table. She hurried towards it and so did Carol.

" _Oh my god—seriously?"_ Carol she hissed in a whisper too low for Sophia to hear when Olivia got close, _"How are you even walking?"_

"Stayed here the last _two_ nights too." Olivia said defensively.

Carol looked a bit mollified, but still rolled her eyes as she deposited the _fifth_ condom in the garbage.

"So is this _your_ camper, Miss Olivia?" Sophia asked, frowning.

"No sweetie, this is our place. Olivia was just house-sitting for me while I was gone to get you." Carol said, her stern look at Olivia telling her that was the story for Sophia.

"I'm heading to the Laundromat." Olivia offered softly, pointing to the full basket. "I can do those. I _should_ do those."

Carol's look said, _Yes, you should_.

Olivia picked up the basket, her mouth turned down with embarrassment, and mouthed the word, _Sorry._

 _Are you happy?_ Carol asked, almost silently, her hand going out to stop Olivia from leaving.

"Oh. Okay." Sophia murmured, continuing her conversation with Carol, but then frowned. "But there's only one bedroom."

"With a nice big bed—I think you and I can share—that sound okay?" Carol asked.

"So Dix has to sleep on this tiny couch?" Sophia asked, frowning down at the loveseat sized piece of furniture she had flopped herself onto.

"Dix has his own place, Soph." Carol said, a bit off-handedly, still waiting for a reply in her almost silent conversation with Olivia.

Olivia slowly smiled and then nodded her head up and down. At that Carol smiled too and they did a sort of half hug around the laundry basket.

" _What?"_ Sophia cried, leaping up, "But he can't! We came with him! We're _his_ girls—Mrs. Irma said!"

"Sophia, please sit down." Carol said in a quiet but no nonsense tone.

The girl complied but crossed her arms over her chest and practically growled.

"I... I think I'll head out to the Laundromat now." Olivia said, pulling back from Carol, seeing that she needed to talk to Sophia. "I'll drop these back when I'm done... unless you want me to return the key?"

"Sophia and I will be staying here, but you're still welcome to come here to rest in the AC during the day if you need to." Carol said evenly. "I know it gets hot and dusty working in the shop."

"Thank you." Olivia said, relieved to see she hadn't totally alienated her boss. "See you later."

As soon as she was out the door Carol went and sat down on the couch next to her daughter and held out her hand, but Sophia ignored her. Sighing, Carol lowered her hand palm down to her own thigh and rested it there.

"You have to talk to me. I'm your mom and I just got you back so you have to talk to me." Carol said, tears filling her eyes.

"I can sleep here. I'm little. I fit on this mini couch." Sophia offered, "Then you and Dix can have the bedroom."

"It's not..." Carol blew out a frustrated breath, "... it's not appropriate."

"Why?" Sophia put her fists on her hips stubbornly.

"Because we're not _married._ " Carol told her.

"Ed had sleep-overs with that Karen and other ladies." Sophia said, "They weren't married."

"He did a lot of things that weren't right." Carol sighed, furious all over again at her ex-husband's perfidy and the fact that their very young daughter had to know about it.

"Well, duh. He's in jail now." Sophia said sarcastically. "And he made you go and wouldn't let you see me." then she finally looked at her mother, "But Dix isn't like that—he's a good guy—and you love him, right?"

"That's not the point, Sophia." Carol said quietly. "It's not appropriate for him to live here with us."

"If we were at the ranch we'd all be living together." Sophia reasoned.

"He had his own room there." Carol reminded her, and then paused in thought, trying to find a way to explain it to an eight year old. "This is just like that. His RV is like his room—it's parked right next door—and you'll see him all the time."

"Are you sure?" Sophia asked a bit plaintively.

"Positive." Carol said, holding out her hand for Sophia to take again. Instead Sophia slid closer and pulled Carol's arm over her shoulder and leaned on her.

They sat there like that without saying anything more for a few minutes until there was a knock on the door. Carol leaned over and kissed the top of Sophia's head and gave her a squeeze before she got up to go answer it.

And there he was, big as life, grinning at her on the steps. He gave her a quick kiss and then went to Sophia and plopped down next to her with a grunt, making her giggle.

"What're you two doin' over here?" Daryl asked with a frown. He'd been searching for them when he ran into Olivia who said she'd just seen them in Carol's camper. He took off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair with a frown as he looked around the interior of the RV.

"We've been cleaning—" Carol started to explain, but Daryl interrupted.

"Before they come pick it up?" Daryl asked, tossing his hat on the coffee table and then dropping his arm around Sophia's shoulders, "Or are Abe and Olivia taking it over?"

"Mom?" Sophia sounded hopeful.

"This is _my_ RV." Carol said firmly. "Sophia and I are staying here."

"Then who's gonna stay in the new one that'll be here this afternoon?" Daryl asked with an exaggerated look of puzzlement, "It's lots bigger—got two bedrooms—room to keep all that girly stuff you two have—hair clips and such?"

"We're going to live with you?" Sophia asked Daryl, bouncing up and down in excitement.

"Sophia, would you please go and watch one of your DVDs in the bedroom?" Carol said, with an underlying bite to her words, " _Daryl_ and I need to talk."

"Mom?" Sophia looked back and forth between Carol and Daryl with worried eyes.

"Head phones and close the door." Carol said crisply.

"Don't fight, please?" Sophia's lower lip started to tremble.

Carol realized she was telling Sophia to do the same things that she'd done when she knew Ed was in a foul temper: getting her out of the line of fire.

"It's okay, Soph." Daryl said. He brushed a kiss to the top of her head and then took his arm from around her as they stood. "No fighting; promise. We just need to have a grown up talk."

Sophia gave her mother a sad angry look and stomped down the hall way. When she heard the bedroom door click Carol tilted her head at Daryl and gave him a level narrow-eyed stare, her mouth turned down.

"We talked about this." Daryl said patiently, her facial expression and use of his first name more than enough to tell him she was upset, but he was sure if he kept at her she'd see he was right.

"No, you mentioned it as a possibility _if_ I lost my job, but I never agreed to it." Carol said, sticking to her guns. "You don't run my _life,_ Daryl Dixon!"

"I don't want to run it, but I sure as hell want to be _in_ it!" Daryl said, still trying to keep his frustration under control.

"You _are_ in it! We came with you; we're here together aren't we?" Carol fired back.

"But not..." Daryl stopped, weighing his words. He wanted them to be a _family._ Her and him and Sophia. It'd felt so right at the ranch, like they'd always been there; like they belonged by his side, a single unit.

"Not what?" Carol asked.

"Not _'together'_ together." Daryl said, "You were practically livin' with me before this."

"I have Sophia now. I have to think about _her_ ; about what people will say." Carol told him, "I can't just ... just live in _sin_ with you when I have my child here." she crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him.

Daryl just looked at her, blinking. What Turner Classic movie had _that_ objection come from?

He stood stock still for several beats and then took his wallet out of his back pocket and opened it. A slim velvet pouch was held between the folds and as she watched he opened it and let what was inside fall into his palm. Then he went down on one knee in front of her and held out his hand.

" _So marry me."_

* * *

Oh my!

Note: "The great cosmic Pete" is Abe's unusual way of referring to a higher power. He says it a couple of times in his conversation with Sasha in "Always Accountable." I even watched with subtitles on to make sure that's what he was saying, LOL!


	19. Chapter 19: All In

_All In_

The ring can be found on the Lang Antiques website: Petite Diamond Solitaire Ring#10-1-4023.

* * *

Kneeling in front of the only woman he'd ever truly loved, Daryl watched her face flash through several expressions—fear, longing, hope, disbelief—before she took a deep breath and put her hand over her mouth as if she was trying to hold in whatever words were trying to escape.

"This was my grandmother Dixon's ring—Irma n' Dale had it—said the old woman wrote in her will to give it to the Dixon heir who ran the ranch, for his wife." Daryl explained quietly. "Merle told 'em to give it to me, for _you_."

Carol stared down at the beautiful ring, its diamond flashing in the antique white gold setting. The stone was recessed, safe for a rancher's wife to wear as she went about her work making a home for her family.

"It's supposed to be Cherokee roses—see? Carved there on each side? My great great somethin' grandfather was Cherokee—came west on the Trail of Tears—part of my family I never knew anything about until we got the ranch." Daryl told her, "The flowers represent hope. Mothers were grievin' for their little ones lost on the way, so tribal leaders asked for a sign, and the next day where their tears fell these flowers bloomed. You never lost hope for your Sophia..."

Carol glanced up at him, wiping at her eyes once and nodding, but didn't speak.

"You don't have to say anything right now." Daryl said quickly, forestalling any necessary response from her. "I know there's a lot to think about... for both of us. Neither of us had much luck the first time we tried it, but I wanted you to know it's where I think we're goin' with this. I'm all in." He put the ring back into the pouch and sealed it and then held it out to her.

Carol looked at him, her chest rising and falling rapidly, trying to suppress a fight or flight response to the situation. She tilted her head slightly to the side in a silent question.

"I want you to take this and keep it while you think about what I asked." he said, his voice sounding raw from all the emotion it held. "When you decide, you can... you can either put it on or give it back." And then he held his breath.

Carol slowly reached out and took the velvet pouch. She closed her fingers around it tightly and then held it to her heart.

Daryl breathed a sigh of relief and then stood, picked up his hat and leaned in to give her a quick but sweet kiss on the forehead. He turned to go, but stopped when his hand was on the door handle.

"I'm sorry I jumped the gun on the new RV." He cleared his throat and looked around the freshly cleaned room. "Sophia's really gonna like it here."

Carol wrapped her arms around herself and nodded, giving him a crooked smile through the tears she was trying to hold at bay.

"Could I ask..." he paused, looking down at his hand clenching and unclenching on his hat nervously, "Could I ask you to do somethin' else for me?"

"What Dix?" Carol asked softly.

Hearing her call him by that name gave him hope that he hadn't totally fucked this up and he relaxed a tiny bit.

"Would you come with me to see my therapist?" he asked and then turned his face towards her. "I told her about you n' she thinks it'd be a good idea to talk to the both of us if you're willin'."

"She's Tara's friend?" Carol asked.

"That's right, her name's Denise." Daryl nodded, glad she remembered. That must mean something, right? "She lives in Texas, near Amarillo n' we'll be there next week."

"Okay." Carol nodded, a hint of a smile on her lips. "I think that's a good idea."

"Good..." Daryl smiled in relief, then tried to suppress it, "I mean thanks..." but couldn't keep his smile from breaking back through. "I better go."

"What did you draw?" she asked, stopping his hand from turning the handle.

"Middle of the pack for preliminaries." he told her, "They do random draw for that, no matter where you are in the standings. Second round is based on your prelim score. I'm gonna go take a look at the bull I drew."

"Can we come with?" she asked, surprising him. She was still clutching the pouch containing the ring in both hands, her knuckles white.

Daryl chewed on his lower lip, his brows drawn together. He wanted to give her time without any pressure to think about what he'd sprung on her so he'd thought he'd let her get Sophia settled in and then maybe see if she wanted to have dinner with him after his ride, but if she wanted to spend time with him now, he wasn't going to say no.

"You have breakfast yet?" he asked, squinting at her.

"No—we came here first." Carol said. They'd gotten up so early for the flight she'd thought they –or at least Sophia—should take a nap before things really got rolling, but the state of the RV's interior had side-tracked her.

"You can't come with me to the rough stock pens until after the events are over; official participants only before." Daryl explained. "...but I got enough time that we can go grab some food after I do. If that's okay?"

"Sounds like a plan." Carol said, nodding slowly. "Do I have time to get cleaned up a little? I feel all grubby from the flight and the cleaning spate."

"Sure." Daryl said easily, "You freshen up while I run to the pens. I'll be back in say, an hour? And we can do a late breakfast/early lunch."

"Are you asking us to _brunch_?" Carol teased lightly, a little more relaxed, her hands lowering, but she kept the pouch held tightly in the right.

"Might have to turn in my macho cowboy card if anyone finds out, so keep it to yourself, okay?" Daryl chuckled softly, giving her a shy grin.

"My lips are sealed." she nodded.

At the mention of her lips Daryl's gaze couldn't help but drift to them. Releasing the door handle he went back to her in two swift steps and put two fingers from his free hand under her chin to lift it. Her beautiful eyes met his and she placed her hands on his chest, leaning in as he lowered his mouth to hers.

Daryl brushed his lips over hers gently, once, twice, and then she fisted her left hand in his shirt and pulled him closer. He tilted her face so he could deepen the kiss, slanting his mouth over hers, showing her how much she meant to him, and infusing it with tenderness, coaxing her heated response with every swipe of his tongue against hers. When the need for breath overcame their need for the connection between them, he reluctantly lifted his lips from hers and instead rested his forehead at her temple.

"Thank you—for understanding—I _do_ love you, you know." Carol said in hoarse gratefulness.

He did understand. She needed time to process everything that had happened to her, time to be with her daughter and trust that no one was going to take her away again. As much as he wanted to just sweep her off her feet and make all her dreams come true she needed to be in control. He could give her that. He'd give her anything she needed.

They stood that way for a few beats and then she lowered her hands and he released her.

"I know." Daryl said, also knowing if he pushed too hard he could lose her. "See you in about an hour, Shortcake." he put his hat on and then he grinned, "Tell Soph I'll see her in a little bit... and tell Michonne I said hi."

Carol grinned back and nodded. As he went out the door and shut it behind him she took a deep breath and then huffed it out, wiping the remnants of her overwhelmed tears off her cheeks.

* * *

After a quick shower, while Sophia was taking hers, Carol sat on the bed with her laptop and went on Skype to do exactly what Daryl expected her to: talk to her boss and best friend.

"So what? The ring wasn't big enough?" Michonne teased when Carol told her that she hadn't given Daryl an answer to his very unexpected question.

Her engagement ring from Ed had been ostentatious to the extreme. A flawless two carat round cut in a pave diamond Neil Lane setting, it had been created by the famous designer himself. It was the kind of ring that people like the Pelletiers bought to show their wealth off to the world. It had always felt heavy and ungainly on her finger. She'd left it and the matching wedding band behind when she'd tried to flee with Sophia to the shelter and when she'd been forced to return and put them back on they had felt like shackles weighing her down.

During the divorce proceedings, Andrea had told her the set was her property and was listed with a value of $25,000 by Ed's attorney in the settlement papers. She was able to sell it for about half of that and used the money to fund her custody battle until her inheritance had come through.

Carol held up the ring Daryl had given her for Michonne. The small diamond, protected in the box setting, was bracketed by two delicately carved flowers with stems vining around the band.

"Wow—that's exquisite." Michonne said with approval.

"It was his grandmother's." Carol told her. "Passed down through the family." She thought of the story he'd told her about the meaning of the wild roses in the band, how he'd made sure she could stop shedding tears for _her_ child.

"A family heirloom?" Michonne sighed. "The man's got it bad for you, sweetie-pie. He's in luuurve!""

" _Stop."_ Carol gave a frustrated chuckle. "Why didn't I just say _yes_? It was like the words stuck in my throat. I owe him so much. He saved her—Sophia—I wouldn't have her back now if it wasn't for him."

"Don't say yes just because you're grateful." Michonne cautioned. "With everything that's happened these last few days it's a wonder you're able to do much of anything, let alone make life changing decisions! I'm glad he didn't push things. You just got out of a terrible marriage you were rushed into. He let you know how he felt and then gave you the time you need. It sounds like he really understands you."

"He wants me to go with him to talk to his therapist." Carol told her. "She helped him through some... some hard things in his past."

"That sounds like a really good idea." Michonne agreed. "Take the time he's giving you, Carol. Think things through, you're good at that."

"Thanks." Carol said.

"I hate to bring this up, but Negan wants you to make the offer to Abraham Ford today." Michonne said, her voice totally changing into a business-like tone.

"I have to tell him what all it entails." Carol said firmly, "I won't let him go into it without knowing what Negan has on him."

"That's fine." Michonne said. "You need to meet with the others and decide how they want to deal with it too. The attack on Paul and your necessary absence for Sophia gave us a little breathing room, but Negan is chomping at the bit to air the Denim Dreams Team video bios. He's bought national air time starting next week in Amarillo."

" _Shit."_ Carol said softly, almost to herself.

"Nothing like more pressure, right?" Michonne chuckled wryly. "We'll talk tomorrow. I can Skype in to your meeting, just let me know what time."

"Yeah—see you tomorrow—and thanks, really." Carol said.

"Take care of yourself, woman!" Michonne smiled. "And that precious girl and sweet sexy cowboy."

When she disconnected Carol sat for a minute or two mentally composing a list of everything she had to do. Then she went to the dresser and opened her jewelry box. She pulled out a braided Spanish silver chain necklace and took Daryl's ring and threaded it through so she could wear it next to her heart, leaving the velvet pouch in the box. She heard the water shut off in the shower and started down the hall towards the bathroom.

" _Mom?"_ Sophia called. "I need _rodeo_ clothes!" Then she came out of the bathroom in her undies, her hair still wet, holding most of the 'play clothes' Mary had packed for her, three pairs of shorts, two short sleeved blouses and one t-shirt. Other than the jeans she was allowed to wear when she went to the barn, the rest of her things were expensive dresses and other designer outfits fit for the daughter of the richest family in town.

"We can go shopping tomorrow, Soph. For today just wear what you like—it's going to be hot sitting in the stands all afternoon." Carol advised.

"You'll do my hair?" Sophia asked. She'd taken it out of the French braid to wash it only with the promise her mother made to redo it after.

Carol checked her watch.

"Okay, but only if you hurry up and get dressed. Dix will be back soon and we'll go get something to eat."

"Oh thank goodness, I'm _staaarving_!" Sophia said dramatically, rolling her eyes up into her head and looking pitiful, clutching her clothes to her chest. She skipped down the hall to the bedroom backwards to dress and Carol followed, smiling at her theatrics.

"I'm glad you guys made up from your fight." Sophia said, dropping her clothes on the bed and rummaging through them, pulling out a pair of navy shorts and a sky blue t-shirt with a rainbow emblazoned on the front.

"It wasn't a fight, it was a discussion." Carol explained while Sophia pulled on her shirt.

"Did youdiscuss where we're gonna live?" Sophia asked hopefully.

"For now we're staying here and Dix will have his own place, like I said." Carol's right hand rose to the ring on a chain she hid under her shirt. She wasn't ready to talk to Sophia about Daryl's proposal yet.

"Okay... for _now._ " Sophia agreed grudgingly.

* * *

"You want the stats on him?" a familiar voice asked as Daryl studied the heavily muscled bull standing in the pen before him.

"Sure save me lookin' them up." Daryl said, turning to see Eugene Porter behind him. "He one of yours then?"

"No, but I keep spreadsheets on all the rough stock at each and every event mine are participating in for statistical comparison." the stock breeder explained. He called up the data on his I-Pad and handed it to Daryl.

"He's only been covered once in eleven outings? _Damn_." Daryl whistled. "That's one tough bull."

"And he changes up the same way as the Terminator—the bull that caused your almost career ending injuries—he'll give you a large number of points if you can cover, statistical probabilities dictate that it would be enough that you could win the competition." Eugene droned.

Daryl felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. He'd trained hard on the bucking simulator after the sports medicine docs had given him the all clear, working on his responses to the kind of twist and spin change-ups Terminator could throw. He actually felt confident he could handle anything a similar bull would dish out, but he worried that once Carol heard what he'd learned about his ride, it might enter into her decision. He knew she didn't like the dangerous profession he was in. What was to keep her from finding another banker or other well heeled gentleman whose biggest risk on the job was that his morning espresso might burn his tongue?

The part of him that had grown up in a shack in a room with no locking doors was always in there telling him he was worthless. She out-classed him, always had. He was white trash; she was white collar, a lady all the way.

"Let's not share that info with Caro? Okay?" Daryl said.

Eugene at first looked confused, narrowing his eyes and tilting his head to the side.

"She already worries enough without throwing out that kinda shit, you got me?" Daryl added.

"Got it." Eugene nodded. "No kinda shit."

"Appreciate that. Thanks buddy." Daryl said, relieved, and then he checked his watch. "Gotta go—promised my girls I'd take 'em to brunch."

"Brunch. A blending of the words breakfast and lunch, also referred to as second breakfast if one originates in Middle Earth, specifically Hobbiton." Eugene said sagely, in his odd flat monotone, "Enjoy."

"Uh, sure... thanks." Daryl chuckled. "See you later."

As he walked away he wondered if Sophia was into all that stuff—Hobbits and shit—or was she more of a _Boxcar Children_ kinda girl? If he was gonna have a kid he needed to find out what she liked, same as he'd been learning all about what Caro did these last weeks...

Daryl stopped walking and huffed out a shaky laugh. Whoa. Him? A dad?

There were a lot of emotions tangled up in that idea: fear, loss, longing, hope.

He knew he'd be a better father than his own had been, that wasn't a very high bar. He'd pretty much made his peace with those fears when he'd found out Rosita was pregnant. After that loss he'd never thought he'd have the chance again, but now, with Caro, if she decided to take him on, they could be a family.

Well, he better get back to convincing her he was all in.

* * *

 _Okay, they're moving forward. I'm kind of proud of Daryl for figuring out where Carol was at in her head when he saw her reaction to his proposal. He didn't get angry & stomp off feeling rejected or lash out at her. He's ready to make a commitment and willing to wait until she is too. _

_I always regret that we didn't get to see any true Daryl & Sophia interaction on the show. He was so good with the other kids: Carl, Judith & Beth (I do mean that; as much as I loathed the S4 episodes that gave us B*thyl, he did his best to take care of an orphaned girl left in his care when he was deeply grieving the loss of everything he had grown to love since the Turn, especially Carol, LOL! Put an actor the right age, say like Glenn & Enid were in S6 after the mega-herd hit Alexandria, in & it's easy to see what the whole mess should've been. Heck, substitute a Sophia who survived to make it to the Prison arc & have her stranded with Daryl-wouldn't that have been awesome?)_

 _Happy Father's Day_!


	20. Chapter 20: Chasing Eight

Carol learns the truth about the dangerous bull Daryl drew, but not from him.

* * *

 _Chasing Eight_

The knock on the RV door made Carol's heart jump into a faster rhythm. She checked her watch as she headed to open it and saw that it wasn't quite the hour that they'd agreed on, but she couldn't blame Dix for being early, maybe because he wanted to see her as much as she wanted to see him.

Instead of her cowboy though, it was Glenn Rhee who stood on her door step, hat in hand, accompanied by Enid and little Hershel looking around his dad's legs to spy on Sophia who came up to stand beside Carol.

"Hey Carol! We heard you were back and the kids couldn't wait to meet Sophia, hope that's okay." Glenn said with a sweet smile.

"Of course. Soph, this is momma's friend Enid and her other friend Glenn, and his little boy Hershel." Carol said, indicating the teen, the man and the toddler in turn.

"Are you a Appaloosa girl?" Hershel asked, seemingly fascinated, peering up at Sophia's many freckles. "They is my favorite horses."

"I'm little, so I'm more of a P.O.A., I guess." Sophia grinned back, referring to the pony sized version of the famous spotted horses.

Carol smiled, glad her daughter was much more at peace with her freckles than her mother had ever been as a child. She had always told Sophia that they were the sun's kisses and pointed out she had them too.

"You know horses?" Enid asked her with a relieved smile, "Oh thank god you're not a snotty city slicker!"

"Enid Mae!" Glenn chided the girl.

"Come on Glenn, you thought the same thing." Enid teased and then went back to Sophia. They were soon engrossed in a conversation about ponies and riding, Sophia taking care to include Hershel in it as well.

"Where's Maggie?" Carol asked Glenn as the children chattered.

"Warming up Buttons—barrels are the first main arena event this morning—and I'm not on until later today right before bulls."

"Dix went to check on the bull for his first ride." Carol told him, "Then we're heading for brunch if you want to join us."

"Yeah, shi—shoot, I saw the rank critter that he drew." Glenn winced, "Good thing he put in all that extra work on the mechanical bull working out how to counter a spinner... he hasn't had one this bad since..."

Glenn's voice trailed off when he saw Carol's brows draw together and her lips pinch tight.

"Since he was hurt?" Carol said softly. "Is it...?" Why wouldn't Dix tell her if he'd drawn Terminator again?

"It's not the same bull that got him, Carol." Glenn assured her, "It's not Terminator."

"But this one's just as bad?" Carol asked, "Don't lie to me, Glenn."

"I shouldn't have said anything." Glenn mumbled, nervously wiping his hand across his suddenly sweaty upper lip.

" _Tell me."_ Carol demanded softly.

Sighing, Glenn dug his phone out of his pocket and brought up the rodeo website with stats for the competitors and rough stock in the day's events. He handed it to Carol and saw her jaw go tight and her face pale as she read it.

" _Diablo._ Who names these things?" was all she said, handing the phone back to him and wrapping her arms around her torso.

"I didn't mean to worry you." Glenn muttered, looking a little sick as he took it. "Daryl is gonna kick my ass."

"You owe a dollar!" Hershel piped up, pointing his finger at his dad, "That was _a swear_!"

"You swearin' in here, Miss Sophia? Do I need to get out a bar of Lifeboy?" Daryl teased as he came up the steps and stuck his head in through the open door.

Sophia giggled out a _no!_ and ran for Daryl, giving him a flying hug in greeting so exuberant she knocked off his hat. He caught her up in his arms and gave her a big hug in return, smiling over at Carol, but it soon turned to a frown of concern when he saw how upset she looked. He set Sophia down and she went back over to Enid and Hershel who seemed impressed that she was obviously good friends with Daryl.

"Uh, hey Carol, how's about we take Sophia along with us over to the Kiwanis pancake place so we can get a good table saved while Daryl gets washed up?" Glenn offered quickly.

"Mmm! Pancakes! Oh please, mom, may I?" Sophia asked, giving her the puppy-dog eyes, already happy to be making like-minded horsey friends, even if one was a bit older and the other quite a bit younger.

"You listen to Glenn and stay right with him and Enid." Carol said, fretting a bit at the thought of letting her daughter out of her sight again. "You don't know your way around here—wait." she went to her purse and grabbed her cell phone. "Take this. Dix is #2 on the speed dial. Call us if you run into any problems, _promise me_."

"Yes, ma'am, I promise." Sophia said, carefully taking the phone and putting it in the small purse she wore slung across her body.

Carol nodded and they exchanged a quick hug. Then Sophia went to Daryl and raised up her arms for the same goodbye. Carol worried her lower lip between her teeth, touched but also worried by how much her daughter had already bonded with Dix.

Glenn gave Carol a rueful little smile before he led the small parade of children out the door and down the steps. Hershel was holding Sophia's hand and talking a mile a minute while she smiled down at him patiently.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" Daryl asked, frowning at Carol. "News about Paul?"

Carol shook her head from side to side.

"No news is good news I guess, but I thought we'd hear something by now." Daryl puffed out a sigh and leaned down to pick up his hat from where he had dropped it.

"So tell me about the bull." Carol said, her face carefully composed to blandness, but the worry underneath still came through.

Daryl paused briefly on the downward swing of grabbing his hat, enough to show her that she'd thrown him. He got the hat and then stood back up, a self-deprecating lazy grin on his face.

"My draw? Nothin' I ain't seen before. I'll be chasin' eight same as always." Daryl shrugged dismissively, holding the hat in front of him. He looked over his shoulder to the door briefly and then back to her before deliberately changing the subject. "Nice of Glenn to stop by with the kids; looks like Sophia's already makin' friends."

"This isn't going to work unless we're honest with each other, Dix." Carol said quietly, her hand rising to touch the silver chain visible above the neckline of her shirt, her thumb rubbing over the braided necklace, looking at him steadily.

Daryl broke her gaze and looked down at his hat, fidgeting with it. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her, the very last thing. He'd asked Eugene to stay quiet about the bull, but he should've known someone else would probably spill the beans.

"This is part of who you _are_. Don't shut me out because you think I can't handle it." Carol said resolutely, "I'm stronger than you think."

"It's a tough bull... only ever been covered once... Eugene says he's a lot like Terminator." Daryl told her. He sensed her moving closer and willed himself to stand still, his eyes still down. If she asked him not to ride today he honestly didn't know what he'd say. He was so close to the Championship he could taste it; the drive to compete, to finish what he'd started, was racing through him like a drug.

"Glenn said you trained on a mechanical bull." Carol said, her forehead frown deep. "So you could handle another ride like him."

Daryl gritted his teeth. _Damn that little motherfucker Glenn; never could keep his mouth shut_.

"I prepared best I could..." Daryl nodded. "I'm confident I can ride him, but you don't want me to lie to you, so here it is. Any time I get in the chute I risk injury or death. This is a dangerous sport, but I'm good at it. I use the right safety equipment n' I ride as safe as I can. I got ten more weeks of qualifying rodeos until the World Championships in Vegas at the end of the season. If you want to cut this off until then, I'll understand, but I need to see this through." He'd hate every second he was apart from her, but he'd understand.

When she didn't say anything Daryl swallowed hard but kept going, "And If you hand me that ring back right now I'll understand that too."

He caught her movement out of the corner of his eye and looked up. She pulled the silver chain out from under her shirt and he saw the engagement ring hanging from it and his heart sank. She reached behind her neck for the clasp and his knees felt weak. He dropped his hat, his hands going boneless when she let the chain fall into her other hand so she could slide the ring from it and then pocketed the chain. She held the small circle, staring down at it in the palm of her hand.

Daryl swore he felt his heart stop.

"Las Vegas works for me." Carol said, sliding the ring onto her left ring finger, "But _no_ Elvises." she warned, shaking her right hand index finger at him.

"I... _what_?" Daryl was in shock, his mouth open, looking down at her left hand and then back up to her face, a bit bewildered but hopeful.

"Or is the plural Elvii?" Carol mused, looking down at the ring on her finger, "I suppose they'd know in Vegas if they would anywhere."

" _Caro?"_ Daryl staggered forward, taking her left hand in both of his.

"Yes Dix. I'm saying yes." Carol told him, meeting his eyes, the edges of her lips only slightly curled up, but her eyes were smiling.

"I... I was givin' you time." Daryl said slowly, still not quite sure this was happening.

"I've loved you since I was twelve years old." Carol said, reaching out with her free hand and pushing the hair back off his brow gently and then scrubbing her fingers over the bristle softness of his whiskers before cupping his jaw. "I think that's enough time."

"I ain't one to look a gift horse in the ass, but... I thought you were scared about me ridin'. " Daryl asked, his tone wary and wondering.

Carol had to briefly smile at his profane take on the old saying, but then he plainly saw her fears warring with her resolution.

"I _am_ scared, but I trust you when you say you're as prepared as you can be. I know how important this is to you and I want you to know I believe in you. I want you to ride every bull it takes in the next ten weeks to get you to Vegas and then promise me you'll _never_ get on another one after we're married."

"I promise." Daryl lifted her left hand to his lips and kissed the engagement ring and then held her palm to his heart which he knew was beating a mile a minute. He leaned in and with tender brushes fitted his lips to hers, so sweet, wet and warm. Her mouth opened on a sigh and he let the tip of his tongue trace the opened seam between her petal soft lips, silently asking permission to deepen the kiss. Her grip on his shirt tightened reflexively and she spread her fingers out over his pectoral and then flexed them in, gathering up the soft chambray of his shirt in her fist and using it to pull him closer.

" _God, Caro..."_ he growled, sliding one hand up and around her nape while the other closed over her hip, holding her tightly against him. Her willowy body fit him perfectly, his hard places melding into all her soft ones.

" _Pancakes."_ Carol murmured when his lips left hers to glide over her jawline.

"Nah... _Short_ cake." Daryl grinned, trailing kisses down her neck to the vee of her shirt.

"They're waiting for us. Glenn and the kids... Sophia..." Carol reminded him, but gave a little moan when he nuzzled against her breast.

"Ain't hungry... for _pan_ cakes..." Daryl teased, closing his mouth over her nipple through both blouse and bra and sucking down hard.

" _Not fair, cowboy."_ Carol groaned, arching towards him despite her weak protest, but winding her hands through his hair and giving it a tug to stop him.

Daryl looked up into the most beautiful blue eyes in the world.

"You said _yes_." he said, straightening to stand tall, his hands around her waist, "You really said yes." and his lopsided almost goofy grin made her grin back.

"I said yes." Carol's smile grew brighter, draping her arms up over his shoulders

"We're gonna be a family, Caro—you me n' Sophia." Daryl hugged her, lifting her off her feet. "We're gonna make this work, I promise you."

His phone went off then, both vibrating and ringing, his ring tone sounding like an old fashioned rotary phone.

"Sophia wants her pancakes." Carol chuckled, releasing Daryl so he could pull the phone out of his pocket and thumb it on.

"Hold yer horses, lil' bit, we're—" he started with a big smile, but then his face blanked and his eyes narrowed, "Fine—yeah, he's a good draw—that's right, we got in early this morning from there." then there was a long pause as he listened before speaking again, "She can't come to the phone right now—can I have her call you back at this number?"

Daryl's lips went tight and his hand squeezed down hard on her hip.

"I see. I'll tell her." he said evenly. "Thank you, appreciate that." and then he hung up and pocketed his phone.

"Who was it?" Carol asked, the look of dread on her face all too familiar.

"It was Negan. He called your phone first and got Soph. She told him you were with me. He said he didn't realize that your custody situation had changed. He wants to talk to you." Daryl told her.

"Why didn't you just give me the phone?"

"You need to meet with the Team first, talk strategy with them and Michonne, don't you?" Daryl asked, tilting his head at her, narrowing his eyes.

"He's not supposed to call... he's coming next week to Amarillo. He gave me until then. I have until then." Carol closed her eyes and leaned in, resting her forehead against his chest.

"No, you don't." Daryl sighed, "He was calling from Sky Harbor. Just flew in for the rodeo; said he wants to see me ride in person and meet Abe; said he'd see you in the SWW private box in the arena this afternoon."

Carol lifted her head, at first disbelieving, but then resignation and finally determination set in.

"All right." Daryl said with a little huff of breath, "Let's go have some pancakes and then we'll round everybody up."

Carol nodded, her jaw set.

"You okay?" Daryl asked, pushing the loose strands of her hair back behind her ears in a gentle gesture.

"Gotta be." Carol said, her eyes crinkling at the corners, a smile breaking over her face. "I just got engaged to the next PRCA World Bull Riding Champion."

* * *

Thanks for reading!


	21. Chapter 21: Devils

The showdown with Negan gets off to a surprise start.

For a nice explanation of the gear that bull riders wear and use, see the pbr website.

Yes, I'm back! Thanks for giving this one a chance again.

* * *

 _Devils_

"A brave [person] is [one] who dares to look the Devil in the face and tell him he is a Devil."  
\- James A. Garfield

* * *

"Daryl!"

The jovial voice of the man filling the doorway grated on his ears, but Daryl smiled a closed mouth smile and took the hand that was proffered.

"Mr. Negan." Daryl took a step forward and subtly put himself between Carol, Sophia and the head of SWW.

They had just said goodbye to Glenn, Enid and little Hershel and were on their way back to the RV to get Sophia's backpack so she could meet back up with the sitter and her charge while the DD team was at their meeting.

"Carol." Negan said smoothly and offered his hand to Carol next.

"Good morning, Mr. Negan." Carol said in a neutral tone as she also shook his hand and released it.

"And this must be your lovely daughter, Sophie." Negan held his hand out to Sophia who looked to her mother before accepting it for a brief shake and quick release.

"So _phia_." the girl corrected, earning a proud look from both her mother and Daryl.

"I apologize, Miss Sophia." Negan said with a contrite smile, but his eyes very briefly sparked dangerously at the correction before resuming a look of benign amusement and crouching down in front of her at her eye level. "Did you enjoy your pancakes?"

"Yes sir." Sophia said with firm politeness, but she reached back and took her mother's hand. "They were very good."

"Do you like maple syrup or jam on them?" Negan asked conspiratorially, turning on the southern charm. "...or maybe peanut butter?"

"Butter and syrup." Sophia replied, "That's the best." She looked back at Daryl as she said it and they shared a smile, "But mom likes blueberries in hers."

Blueberry pancakes were Carol's favorites and she had been delighted when that had been one of the choices on the menu at the Kiwanis's pancake tent at the rodeo grounds. Daryl and Sophia preferred the purity of plain pancakes and teased Carol about the need to gild the lily.

"I'll file that away." Negan said with a small smirk and a lazy glance up at Carol as he stood back up that made Daryl bristle.

"We hadn't expected to see you so soon, Mr. Negan." Carol said, drawing Sophia back against her and keeping a firm hold on her hand.

"When I heard from Miss Sophia that there were pancakes here, I decided to take a break and have a late breakfast—or perhaps an early lunch?" Negan said amiably.

"Brunch!" Sophia said, "Like us—we had a celebration brunch!" she grinned up at her mom and Daryl.

"Celebration?" Negan raised an eyebrow and then his eyes narrowed as he glanced down at Carol's left hand and the new ring she wore there.

"Excuse me?" a woman with three children in tow called out from behind Negan and he frowned, realizing they were blocking the entrance.

"Pardon me." Negan said as he stepped aside to let the newcomers pass.

"We need to be going." Carol said quickly, trying to take the opportunity to leave.

"Are congratulations in order then?" Negan said just as quickly and probably more sharply than he intended, halting Carol in place in a learned response that made her clench her teeth.

She hated that she could still be intimidated by someone like him. She felt Dix place his hand reassuringly at the small of her back and she leaned into it a little, grateful for the support even while wishing she didn't need it.

"We're getting married!" Sophia announced happily, unaware of the currents of emotion swirling around her. "Isn't mom's ring pretty? It's really old and it's a flower and it was Dix's grandma's." she repeated everything she'd been told over breakfast in an excited voice.

"I take it this is a fairly recent development then." Negan murmured, his mouth trying for a smile but still somehow twisting into a look of displeasure.

"This morning." Daryl said succinctly. "And now we really do have to get goin'—big day."

"Of course. Have a good ride, Dixon." Negan nodded, recovering his smile and then turned to Carol and Sophia, "I'll see you later then, Carol, at our meeting. We have a lot to discuss. Nice to meet you, Miss Sophia." and then he tipped his hat to them. "Have a lovely day, ladies."

Daryl looked back as he ushered Carol and Sophia away and saw that Negan still stood on the doorway staring after them, his smile taking on a shark-like edge.

* * *

"So if we do nothing, he gets to put his ugly spin on our lives." Glenn said with disgust.

"We can quit." Maggie said, standing next to her husband, her arms crossed over her chest stubbornly.

"And then what about Michonne's business?" Carol asked, "Her reputation will suffer if she loses a big account like this one."

"Can Dixon buy out _all_ of our contracts?" Morgan asked skeptically, looking over at Daryl and Carol.

"Even if he does, there's still a problem I found when I had my office fine tooth comb your contracts." Andrea told them. "There's a play or repay clause similar to what pro-athletes in other sports have, but there's also a non-competition clause. Even if you were successful in buying your way out, you can't work for _any_ other sponsors for the length of the original contract."

At that news the realization that there seemed to be no way out of their dilemma hit everyone hard.

Daryl was the only one with enough capital to weather a total loss of sponsors, and only _if_ he went back on his resolution to keep his ranch profits separate from his rodeo life.

"So is there a way we can control what is shown in the SWW PR spots?" Daryl asked, "Put our own spin on it? It's all in the editing, right?" he looked at Carol expectantly.

"Negan thinks sensationalism will sell more denim than straight up truth." Andrea interjected.

"Well, we'll just have to convince him otherwise." Michonne said resolutely.

"How?" Morgan asked.

"Are we ready to go?" Carol asked, looking at Michonne. "I know you've had a lot on your plate lately and he's a week early..."

"I finished it before everything happened with Sophia." Michonne assured her. "I just wanted to do a final polish before I sent it to you, but it's ready."

"Fantastic." Carol smiled in relief. "And the other?"

"Finished what?" Daryl asked, looking back and forth between Carol and Michonne as she nodded yes to Carol's question.

"The kind of persuasion that Negan will understand." Michonne said, her smile of satisfaction almost feral.

* * *

"So as you can see the focus group data indicates that the re-edits we did on the promo bios resulted in a considerably higher positive Q score for each of those featured than the original extended spots." Carol said, clicking on the PowerPoint slide that showed the statistics she was discussing.

"How large a sample are we talking here?" Negan asked, leaning back in his chair, his already narrowed eyes shifting their laser focus onto her and away from the screen in front of them.

"We had them posted on the beta-test web site for the past week and they received an average of three thousand hits per set." Carol explained, "Dixon's were the highest, probably because he had a higher profile nationally previously, but Rovia proved quite popular as well, possibly because the assault against him has been in the news and has become a cause celeb in LGBTQ circles."

Carol felt a bead of sweat trickle down her back as Negan studied her. So much depended on her being able to sell him on the profitability of taking the high instead of the low road in the Denim Dreams campaign.

"The Beta site—how did you target your sample sets?" Negan asked.

"We used sponsored invitations on PRCA websites and other social media." Carol told him. "The response rate was almost 85%, excellent for this kind of Beta."

"And that's verifiable? If I hand this research over to my people they'll be able to replicate your results?" Negan said, his voice flat, giving nothing away.

"That shouldn't be necessary." Carol said, sticking to her guns. "Our sample size was good, our methodology was sound. It would be a waste of your time and money to repeat."

"The devil's in the details, Carol. Results can be faked." Negan said, staring her down. "I'm well aware how unhappy your devoted fiancé and friends are with the original promos."

Carol stared back at him, her jaw tight with anger. She forced herself to smile, to calm.

"Just trying to give you the best bang for your buck, Mr. Negan." she said evenly. "Your company has invested a lot of time and capital in this new line. Why would you adhere to a lesser marketing concept when shown a better more lucrative one?"

"Because it was _my_ concept." he said tightly, rising from his chair and coming around his desk to loom over her, taking hold of her forearm to hold her in place. "I don't give a _shit_ if yours will make more money, honey. _You_ don't run SWW, I do. The campaign goes my way or all of you are _fucked_. I will _bankrupt_ every one of your rodeo pals and make sure no one will _ever_ hire your PR firm again."

"Yes, Mr. Negan you are the CEO, but even you are answerable to someone." Carol stood her ground.

Negan laughed low and nasty.

" _You're_ answerable to _me,_ Carol." with his other hand he lifted her left hand and ran his thumb over her engagement ring and then lifted her hand to his lips. "What are you willing to offer to convince me to use the re-edited promos?"

"Are you soliciting a sex from a person in a subordinate position as a condition of keeping her job?" Carol said mildly.

"I already slid my dick down your throat, sweetheart. Just making it reality." Negan said, softly chuckling at her. Then he gripped her arm more tightly, making her wince, and leaned close to purr into her ear, "Your cowboy doesn't ever have to know how much _bang_ you gave me for my buck to protect his secrets."

"I think... _not_." Carol said slowly and then pulled her hand from his and used her remote mouse to click onto the next slide on the screen and then on the link in the middle of the screen, which immediately filled with a live image of a group of men and women sitting around a large conference table.

"What the hell _is_ this?" Negan fumed, glaring at the screen.

"Good afternoon, Jameson." a balding older man said, his mouth in a flat line of displeasure.

"Gregory? What then fuck are you and the Board doing there? I didn't call a meeting." Negan blustered.

"You should read your company by-laws, Jameson. A majority of members can vote to meet in emergency session. We received an interesting invitation to meet here today to watch a fascinating PowerPoint presentation." Gregory said, his expression growing more thunderous, "As a matter of fact we had a split screen that showed us _your_ reaction to it as well."

"You fucking _bitch_." Negan snarled accusingly at Carol, who in response just looked down at his hold on her arm, raising an eyebrow, and then at their audience. He released her and backed away, his expression surly.

"Ms. Walker?" Gregory said.

The office door came open and an angry Amber, Negan's secretary, and a smug Michonne, who had watched everything on the outer office PC screen, entered the room followed by two beefy uniformed security guards.

"Thank you for your help on this, Ms. Pelletier, Ms. Walker. We appreciate the excellent work you and your firm put into this." Gregory said. "You can expect a call to discuss the specifics of the Denim Dreams campaign after the results of today's board meeting and vote."

"You are very welcome, Mr. Hill." Carol said, giving a small sigh of relief and sharing a triumphant smile with Michonne.

Negan took a step towards Carol, but found himself blocked by the guards

"And if you chose to bring a sexual harassment suit against Mr. Negan, we're all prepared to testify on your behalf." one of the woman board members said firmly.

"Thank you." Carol nodded, and without a backward glance at the man whose career she'd probably just helped destroy, she strode out of the office, followed by Michonne.

* * *

"So you beat him with _statistics_?" Maggie asked incredulously. Her event over, she was sitting in the stands with Lori and Hershel to watch Abe and Morgan, acting as his hazer, in the bulldogging. Carol and Michonne had just arrived with their good news.

"Q scores, social media and Skype." Carol quipped, raising her plastic lemonade cup in a victory toast.

"And his own inability to keep his dick in his pants." Michonne drawled, tapping her cup against Carol's.

" _What?"_ Daryl asked sharply, surprising them with his entrance from the side aisle. He looked wound tight, already wearing his protective vest and chaps and was picking nervously with the fingers of his left hand at the single leather glove he wore on his right.

"Shouldn't you be getting ready to ride?" Lori asked him. Abe was last in his event and Daryl's was next.

"Wanted to see how the meeting with Negan went." Daryl said, but was looking at Carol, not Lori. He'd been worried all afternoon about her going in alone to face down the SWW CEO, but Michonne had assured him she would be there as back-up.

"It went _very_ well..." Michonne began, but Daryl saw Carol's cheeks turn red and climbed up to sit down beside her, his expression full of concern.

" _Caro? What did he do?"_ Daryl asked, taking her hands in his.

"I'm fine, Dix." Carol assured him. "You need to concentrate on your ride, not on me."

"All right, our final entrant in this event has been havin' himself a real nice season so far!" the announcer's booming voice rang out over the loud speakers. "Let's have a big hand for Abraham Ford!"

While everyone around them applauded, Daryl stared at Carol, frowning when he realized she was wearing a light sweater over her sleeveless western blouse despite the almost 90 degree heat. He slid his hands up, pushing the sleeves back before she realized what he was up to.

The clear outline of finger shaped bruises on her forearm, starting to darken already, whipped his eyes back to hers.

" _I'm going to kill him."_ Daryl seethed, starting to rise.

"We _won_ , that's what matters."Carol said, grabbing for his hands to keep him there, barely able to, but he did sit back down.

" _What matters is he fucking hurt you!"_ Daryl said incredulously, flashing back to the first time he'd seen bruises like this on her creamy white skin, the ones put there by her father.

"I hurt him worse." Carol said firmly.

" _What does that m—"_

"And that ladies and gentleman, was the winning run!" the announcer crowed out loudly on the PA system, cutting Daryl off. "Abraham Ford! Five point two seconds, beating out Tobin Peters by the barest of margins, point three seconds!"

" _Dix!_ Abe won!" Carol said excitedly, trying to distract Daryl from his line of questioning about Negan.

Daryl glanced up at the leader board and saw she was right. It also meant this event was over and his was up next. He blew out a frustrated breath.

Carol used her hold on his hands to pull him into a tight hug.

" _I love you, Dix."_ she told him before kissing him and then looking up into his eyes, hers shining with worry.

Daryl lifted her abused forearm and leaned in to press a careful kiss to the bruises.

"We're not done talkin' about this, Caro." he told her in a serious tone. "You're gonna tell me _everything_ that went on in that meetin'."

Carol nodded in agreement.

"Our first rider is Dylan Sprouse, out of Abilene, currently ranked eighth in the PRCA. He'll be riding Ajax." the announcer came back, "On deck is fan favorite Daryl Dixon, who is poised to take the lead in the standings of this event with a good showing today. He's drawn one of the tougher bulls here, Diablo, but that gives him the chance for more points, ain't that right?"

"Daryl?" Lori asked, just seeming to notice he was still there.

Abraham was waving at him wildly from down at the pens.

"Have a good ride." Carol said, brushing her hands over his ears, centering him, and kissed him again quickly.

Daryl returned the kiss and then went to confront his own devil.

* * *

Gregory is never given a last name in either the comics or on the show, so since he's from Hilltop, I went with "Hill" as his.

Thanks for reading!


	22. Chapter 22: Heartbreaker

Daryl's ride on Diablo.

 _Rodeo Terms:  
sunfishing_: the bull is completely off the ground and kicks either his hind feet or all four feet to the side in a twisting, rolling motion.  
 _Arm Jerker:_ an animal that bucks with a lot of power

* * *

 _Heartbreaker_

" _You're a heartbreaker, dream maker, love taker  
Don't you mess around with me..."  
-Performed by Pat Benatar_

* * *

"All right, buddy, easy eight, right?" Axel, who was one of the bucking chute crew, gave Daryl a hearty slap on the back, asking him if he was ready.

Daryl checked his grip again, ready to nod, but the bull started thrashing and the team pulled him back off so his legs wouldn't get crushed between the animal's powerful over 1700 pound body and the sides of the chute. Diablo sounded enraged, bellowing and snorting like the demon he was, his head crashing repeatedly against the gate and an uneasy murmur ran through the audience.

 _Shit._ He knew this would upset Carol. He was glad they hadn't given into Sophia's pleas to watch so she wasn't in the stands to be frightened.

He took a deep breath and released it, forcing himself to concentrate on his ride and leave everything else outside the arena. The crew worked to pacify the bull and get him straight in the chute so Daryl could get back on.

"Bull _Rider_!" another one of the crew yelled and Daryl tugged on the cage front of his helmet to make sure it was secure and then dropped back down onto the bull's back and started working to solidify his grip and seat. He carefully wound the bull rope around his gloved hand, giving it a jerk to test. He raised his left hand and then nodded at Axel.

Diablo exploded out of the gate, but Daryl was ready for it. He'd studied all the film he could find on this bull on YouTube, and if he stayed true to form, Daryl could ride him. He leaned into the initial sunfish leap forward, staying centered and waited for the animal to decide his turn into the spin—7 times out of 10 he went left, so that was a good bet—but still, he waited.

For .7 seconds he waited, watching the massive horned head in front of him until it started to dip left and then he shifted his seat to compensate, keeping his center of balance perfectly tuned to the movements of the bull, sticking to his back like a cocklebur, his free hand waving in synch with the ups and downs and jerks and spins, conducting a symphony of danger.

He'd heard it called "flow," or "being in the groove," or just synchronicity... been told that when it happened it was better than the best fuck imaginable, a high like a hit of the purest meth, the blue stuff. Time stopped and there was only you and the bull locked in mortal combat, a pure adrenalin rush.

It was all that and more.

When the two bull fighters came up beside him on either side, it took him a second to realize that the ride was over, he'd made time, so enthralled he'd missed the buzzer. He released his grip and Diablo obliged him with a showy dismount as well, twisting right so Daryl slipped neatly to the sand, landing on his feet and sticking it, both hands raised above his head in triumph, but then ducking back wide eyed as the bull's back hooves kicked out and came within an inch of taking off his head.

The crowd gasped.

"Whew! Now you see why his protective vest has those angel's wings on the back—somebody up there's _definitely_ lookin' out for Double D today!" the announcer crowed with a relieved chuckle.

The bullfighters distracted Diablo and got him back into the holding pen while Daryl skedaddled to the fence. Shane and Rick were there waiting for him, admitting they'd been sent by their wife to make sure Daryl was okay and then to report back to Carol, who as a non-competitor wasn't allowed in the pens.

Daryl went one better. Climbing up onto the seven foot fence and hanging onto the top rail, he pulled off his helmet and waved it above his head to where he knew she was sitting.

"Looks like Daryl needs to tell his lady that her Pookie is okay!" the announcer chuckled, "While we're still waiting for what's sure to be a respectable score from our judges, a reminder that both the rider and the bull get half the score in this event, fifty each out of a hundred. Now I've never seen a perfect score in all my years announcing, but in my well-aged opinion, that was damn close, Dix!"

Daryl saluted the announcer's booth and then jumped back down off the fence, his eyes trained on the leader board.

"Good ride, Dixon." Shane said, shaking his hand as soon as he hit the ground.

"You had a great draw." Rick grinned, reeling Daryl in for a back slapping hug.

Several of the other men yet to ride came over and congratulated him while he waited. He nodded in acknowledgement and shook a few hands, but immediately his eyes went back to the scoreboard.

" _The fuck's takin' so long?"_ a familiar drawl swiveled Daryl's head around.

" _Merle?"_

"Hey baby bro." his brother and Abraham stood there grinning like idiots.

" _What're you—"_

But before Daryl could finish his question, the crowd in the stands erupted into deafening applause and cheers and all sorts of people were pounding him on the back.

" _Ninety-god-damned-eight!"_ Merle whistled long and loud and then pulled Daryl into a tight hug.

Looking over his brother's shoulder at the glowing digital display numbers Daryl could barely believe his eyes. He knew the ride had been special, he'd felt it, but this was... he couldn't even think of a word good enough... barring a near perfect or perfect score from one of the riders yet to compete, the first place standing should be his.

Merle passed him off to Abe and they congratulated each other until a strident female voice rose above the other male murmurings.

" _Daryl! Mr. Dixon! Helena Gomez, ESPN here—can we have a word?"_ the pretty young brunette reporter shoved a microphone in his face and Daryl ran his hand back through his sweaty mop of hair trying to clear it off his face. He unzipped his vest so the Denim Dreams logo on his shirt was visible as was the one more prominently displayed on his vest.

"Sure." Daryl said with his best tight lipped smile. He hated this kinda shit, but Carol would have his hide if he tried to duck out on good press.

"Great ride just now—amazing—so what does it take to have a bull's number like that?" Gomez asked, giving him a serious reporter frown as the camera man zoomed in on his face.

"Thanks, Ms. Gomez. Well, let's see. Just be educated I guess. I studied his stats and took a look at all the film of him I could find—see he's a spinner—"

"As was the bull that severely injured you not all that long ago." she said, narrowing her eyes. "Some people might think you have a death wish, Mr. Dixon."

"Not me, Ma'am. I got everything to live for." Daryl said, his eyes now slits of stormy blue. "Tight family, good friends and my fiancé and her little girl."

"Congratulations on your engagement." she pressed. "What does your fiancé think of your dedication to such a dangerous sport?"

"We support each other in our careers." Daryl said tightly, his back molars grinding.

"And what does she do?" Gomez asked, making Daryl's hackles go up. They'd just taken Negan on for prying into their private lives, the hell if he was going to give this woman information about Carol.

"Sorry, but we need to clear this area." Axel said officiously, his chest puffed up under his PBR logo shirt. He was backed up by Merle and Abe who put his hand in front of the camera lens, cutting off the interview and then escorting Helena Gomez out of the restricted area.

"Thanks man." Daryl nodded, rolling his shoulders to shake off the tension. A bit of ice and then time soaking in a hot tub wouldn't hurt. That bastard of a bull was an Arm Jerker and had done a number on his right arm. It felt like it was about wrenched out of the socket. Yeah, an ice cold Sweetwater, a hot tub and Caro and he'd be set...

"No sweat." Axel grinned broadly and then twirled the ends of his handlebar, "Merle said you'd get your woman to introduce me to one of her tasty single lady friends if I got rid of Ms. ESPN."

Daryl tried to picture Axel with either Andrea or Michonne and it found him hoping Caro had more than just two single friends...

"Congratulations Daryl." A friendlier female voice said from behind them and they all turned to see the familiar figure of Tara Chambler striding towards them.

"Don't jinx me; ain't won it yet." he admonished and then accepted a hug from the rough stock handler.

"I meant on your engagement." Tara grinned, "Denise told me it was coming."

"Couldn't have done it without her," Daryl said sincerely and then ducked his head shyly. He really never could repay Denise for how much she'd helped him. She'd become a good friend. He knew Carol would like her just as much when they got to know each other.

Axel stood up straighter and did that finger thing with his handlebar again, preening as he waited to be introduced to the dark haired beauty.

"Save it, Axe, she don't drive stick." Abe advised and then asked Tara, "You see Alisha lately?

That made Daryl throw him a _what the fuck?_ look. Carol would kill them both if the asshole hurt Olivia by screwing around on her.

"Can't say that I have." Tara replied, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Good."Abe nodded, a small satisfied smile on his face. "Like to keep at least two states between me n' her."

"Yeah, she'll fuck your brains out and then fuck you over in a heartbeat." Tara agreed, holding her hand out for Abraham to shake, but he held his up for a fist bump and they both laughed.

"Moved on to better." Abe told her.

"Me too." and then Tara did bump fists with him.

"So you _both_ did this, _Alisha_ was it?" Axel asked in a choked voice, the titillation about to kill him.

"Sequentially, not in unison." Tara explained carelessly, smirking at Abe and Daryl behind Axel's back.

"No, you _cain't_ have her number neither." Merle snarked, slapping Axel on the back, hard, and pushing him back towards his post at the gate.

Two of the three riders who had gone since Daryl's spectacular ride received no score for violations such as touching the bull (or anything else), with their free hand. The other had gotten a sluggish bull and a score in the low sixties and had petitioned for re-ride on a new animal. That's why Tara was here. She'd brought up three other bulls for the guy to choose from if allowed.

If there was a re-ride would be last, after everyone else had competed. A do-over sounded fair if the bull had been lack-luster. Problem was in a re-ride you had to take whatever you got for your second ride, even if your first score beat it and even if you bailed or were tossed before the clock hit eight.

"Six more riders—you gonna hang here or go sit in the stands?" Merle asked, and Daryl blinked at him. "Darylina, you hearin' what I'm sayin'?"

He always waited in the pens. Pacing the pens. It was habit. When he'd been with 'Sita she was there too working as a paramedic, so he'd never thought about doing anything else.

"Your woman's probably sittin' on pins and needles over there waitin' on the rest of the scores same as you." Axel opined gesturing towards where Carol and their friends were sitting.

"So what do you say?" Merle asked.

"Honestly? Don't think I can sit still." Daryl shrugged, itchy to resume pacing. "Not 'til it's over."

"Ah right, I get that. You always was a twitchy little son of a bitch." Merle nodded in agreement, and then poured on the molasses to his drawl. "You don't mind if I head on over and hold your sweet little woman's hand now, do you?"

"That'd be mighty brotherly of you, Merle." Daryl drawled back, pursing his lips sarcastically.

* * *

"Merle's here. Over at the pens." Andrea said, craning her neck to see who Daryl was talking to.

"Sophia will be thrilled." Carol said dryly. For whatever reason, her daughter was already fond of the rougher elder Dixon brother. She supposed it was because, as with Daryl, they could talk horses. Merle never talked down to her or treated her like she was too young to understand important things. Kids tended to like that in a person.

"Not as thrilled as _Andrea_." Michonne quipped.

Everyone whipped their heads around to look at the lawyer and the PR woman.

Andrea gave her friend the stink eye supreme.

"Merle has a certain... _scruffy_ appeal." Lori allowed with a snarky smile.

"Everyone just... shut up." Andrea said lamely and then glared at Michonne. "See if I ever share a bottle of Cab and girl talk with _you_ again."

Carol shushed them as she saw the next rider was mounting the bull he'd drawn. She held her breath, but he double grabbed on the rope and only lasted three seconds so she had a quick exhale.

"Carol, you know the chances of _anyone_ beating Daryl's score are highly unlikely." Glenn told her, but Carol shushed him too and made everyone knock wood on the benches.

"Since when'd you get so superstitious?" Michonne asked her.

"Since Daryl winning today qualifies him for the Nationals in Vegas." Maggie explained right before Carol shushed them again as the rider on deck got set to go.

Several of the men who'd been standing around Daryl in the pen area broke off and headed for the stands, but he and Abe remained there to watch the rest of the field.

"Sugar Tits!" Merle chortled out his greeting to Andrea, who discretely gave him the finger and he laughed uproariously.

Rick and Shane each gave Lori a kiss on the cheek and settled in beside her.

"We didn't expect you Merle—it's wonderful of you to be here for Daryl." Carol stood and greeted him with hug, but kept one eye on the arena as well.

"I'm all about supporting baby bro, but to tell the truth that ain't the main reason why I'm here." Merle told her, keeping a hold on her arm so she couldn't sit back down.

"Is it something at the ranch? Are Dale and Irma okay?" Carol asked with concern, giving him her full attention.

"They's fine, probably be dancing at _your_ kids' weddin's." Merle smiled.

"Then what is it?" Carol asked.

"Need a minute; 'scuse us." Merle pulled her aside, out of earshot of the others.

"Came to tell him our daddy's dead." Merle said quietly.

"Oh... oh _God_." Carol said, looking over at Daryl who stood quietly with his arms resting on a fence rail while the next rider got ready.

"I know—bastard deserves hell for everything he put his family through and instead he does years of long slow fade and goes in his sleep." Merle bit out, disgusted. "Funeral is next Tuesday—you all don't have to come, but it might give him..."

"Closure? Peace?" Carol said softly. "He already has that, Merle."

"Yeah... I guess he does." Merle said, taking her left hand in his right to admire the Dixon family ring she wore. "Thought you might make him wait longer."

"We've loved each other since we were twelve." Carol repeated what she'd told Dix. "That's plenty long enough."

"I'm happy for you both." Merle said and leaned in to give her a brief kiss on the cheek. " _Big_ improvement on the first one..."

"Just couldn't leave it alone, could you?" Carol rolled her eyes.

"Just meant we get the little miss as a bonus..." then he stopped when he realized what he'd said.

They both knew Daryl had thought he was getting a bonus baby in his first marriage as well.

"Shit—just runnin' my stupid mouth. I'm real sorry, Carol." Merle hung his head. After a beat or two he squeezed her hand, "You know he never gave her that ring. Knew it was meant for you."

"It's okay, Merle—"Carol began, but she was cut off.

"Carol! Hurry up, it's the last bull—the re-ride—come on!" Lori called. "He drew a spinner."

Carol pulled Merle along by his hand back up into the stands and they took their seats.

The young cowboy riding last was cocky. He wore a plain straw cowboy hat with a silver and turquoise band and expensive western wear, though there were only two sponsor names on his protective vest. He was new and obviously trying to make a name for himself. He knew enough to protest his low score and qualify for re-ride and he planned to use the opportunity to knock Daryl out of first place. The bull he'd drawn, named Heartbreaker, was rank—not quite as bad as Diablo, but damn close—the kid was pushing for a wild ride to equal Daryl's.

He never made it out of the chute.

The bull suddenly seemed to go insane; enraged, it reared up and back, twisting its body so that its front hooves went over the side of the chute, trying to leap over it, but its back feet lost their footing and it went down, backwards, crushing the bull rider between its massive body and the wall.

" _Oh holy fucking shit."_ Merle muttered, and then he, like the rest of the group sitting around Carol, leapt to his feet while the crowd as a whole let out a collective groan of dismay. A woman screamed.

Carol sat there, stunned, watching the bull thrash. Then her eyes searched for Dix, saw him running towards the chute along with Tara, saw them working to help the chute wranglers and bull fighters trying to take control of the situation. The white shirted paramedics, kits in hand stood by helplessly, unable to do their work until the victim was freed.

The announcer asked people to please stay calm and remain in their seats; that the emergency personnel were working to help the rider.

Carol flinched when she heard the report of a gun as someone put the injured animal down so they could get to the rider, heard the sirens as the ambulance that was always on hand came screaming into the arena, heard the roar of the big tractor, (used to drag the arena floor to smooth its surface between rides and carry the barrels for the racers in its hydraulic lift), as it fired up and headed to the chute to lift the carcass of the bull off the small human still pinned underneath it.

She felt like she was underwater, everything was happening in some weird slow motion that would periodically speed up to faster than real time and then slow down again.

"Is he alive?" she heard herself asking quietly to anyone who would answer.

Someone sat down next to her and took her hand.

"Hey, you okay?"

 _Merle._ It was Merle. She clung to his hand gratefully. Everything was spinning...

"Carol, just breathe." Merle ordered. "Do it or I'm gonna make you put your head between my knees."

Carol took a big gulp of air and glared at him.

"That's better." he grinned briefly, "Those pretty lips was turnin' blue. Now you got some color back in your cheeks."

"The rider, is he alive?"

"Don't know. Still workin' on gettin' the bull off him." Merle said, "Daryl's right in the thick of it."

"Dix?" Carol said in fear, standing up quickly and looking for his familiar vest. She saw him working with Axel, Tara and the others to attach a sling to the body of the beast to lift it up and away using the arms of the tractor's front scoop. One of the paramedics was laid out on his belly next to the chute reaching his arms through, trying to take the pulse of the trapped man.

"How could this happen?" Carol asked, putting herself in the place of the rider's loved ones—what must they be going through?

"Shouldn't. Got safeties in place, but that's still almost two-thousand pounds of unpredictable animal. Whole lot of things can go wrong." Merle replied.

"Does anyone know him? Does he have family here?" Lori asked with sympathy, her eyes still focused on the unfolding rescue.

"He's new to the circuit." Rick said, "I don't know anything about him."

"Monroe—Aiden Monroe—out of Ohio." Maggie said, consulting her I-Phone. "Oh! It says his mother is a senator! Father an architect, has one brother."

"I think he trains with that outfit outa Virginia and them." Shane recalled and touched his chest. "He had a patch on his vest. Wolf's head."

"The Wolves? How'd a silver spoon kid like that get hooked up with that bunch?" Merle wondered.

"What about them?" Carol asked frowning at him.

" _Shit."_ Merle exhaled hard instead of answering her question.

Looking grim faced, Daryl and the other men were now draping blue tarps all around the bucking chute to block the view of the inside from the crowd. Another low uneasy murmur began to roll over the stands. The tractor holding the dead bull backed out, the animal suspended, swinging limp, and made its way through the gates to the vet station outside the arena.

The ambulance backed up to the chute and the crew hopped out and opened the back doors, pulling out a gurney and wheeling it inside the blue walled enclosure.

The loudspeakers made a static whine and then the announcer started to speak.

"Ladies and gentlemen, out of respect for the events of the day, we just want to let you know that the award ceremonies will not be taking place this evening. Winners may pick up their prizes at the main office of the facility anytime before ten p.m. this evening. If you are not able to do so, your winnings will be mailed to you. Thank you and goodnight."

There was more murmuring from the crowd and then some people started to get up to leave. Other's lingered like lookie-loos driving by a car crash, waiting to see if they could get a peek at the wreck.

"He didn't announce the winner of the bull riding." Rick said, giving Merle a meaningful look.

"That means they think something was hinky." Shane grimaced and spit.

"Hinky?" Carol asked, looking puzzled.

"Like somebody messed with the bull." Merle said, looking disgusted. "In the old days people were known to try shootin' em up with PCP or some such shit to get a better ride. Got worse stuff now... hard to detect."

"They can do blood tests though, on the bulls," Maggie, the daughter of a rodeo vet said. "Daddy did that routinely."

"Depends on how fast the stuff breaks down in the bloodstream." Merle said. "Coulda been the kid or someone trying to jack up the bull for him or..."

"Or someone who wanted to make sure he got tossed quick." Andrea said, frowning sympathetically at Carol and Merle. "Someone who wanted to make sure no one topped an earlier score."

"Dix would _never_ do something like that!" Carol cried in dismay. "How could you even think something like that?"

"She's just thinking like a lawyer." Merle said, "Or a cop. That's just the kind of shit they'll come up with."

"Someone could also be setting him up." Andrea said, giving Carol a meaningful look.

Carol thought of all the dangerous people that they'd come up against in just the last month-Ed and his family, Negan...

There was a flurry activity in the chute with people exiting it and then ambulance attendants closed the back bay doors and went around and got into the front. They didn't turn on the siren, only the lights as they left the arena. Daryl came out, carrying the white straw hat, now bloody and almost mangled beyond recognition and angrily threw it onto the ground. The dispirited paramedics followed him, the pristine white of their shirts also splashed with red.

Tara came out next looking devastated, her face white, her hands shaking. She staggered and then bent over double, vomiting into the dirt.

Daryl went to her, supporting her until she finished, giving her a handkerchief to wipe her mouth and a bottle of water as she leaned against him, talking to her quietly the whole time and putting his arm around her shoulders.

"It was one of Eugene and Tara's bulls." Carol's vision went blurry, blinded by tears and she abruptly sat down.

"And Daryl's good buddies with both of them." Merle scowled, following her train of thought. They were making plans to go into the stock business together. _What a cluster fuck._

Axel came over and said something to Tara and she nodded, gave Daryl a quick hug and then she went with the other man, heading for the veterinarian's area.

Daryl raised his head to the stands, looking for his family. He asked one of the paramedics something and was handed a phone. Carol had his since he couldn't carry it when he rode. It buzzed and she answered it.

"Hey Shortcake." Daryl said warmly.

"Dix." Carol sighed, relieved to hear his voice.

"I gotta stick around to get interviewed." Daryl told her. "Any time there's an accident there's an investigation."

"Is he...?" she asked.

"He's gone." Daryl said tersely. "No helmet...crushed his skull when it hit the side of the chute. At least he was already dead when the bull fell on him."

" _Oh God, no."_ Carol put her hand to her mouth in horror.

Around her their friends all looked sad when they saw her reaction to whatever Daryl had told her.

"Why don't you head back to the camp with Merle?" Daryl said wearily, "I'm gonna be at least another hour or so here..."

"I think you should have Andrea with you." Carol said carefully and looked over at the blonde who nodded in agreement.

"What? Why?" Daryl sounded stressed and confused.

"Because she's our _lawyer,_ Dix." Carol said in that same careful voice.

There was a long pause at the other end as her meaning sunk in. Carol could see two uniformed security guards approach Daryl, waiting until he was done on the phone to talk to him.

"Yeah... right...yeah." he said, noticing the guards and then he gave a deep sigh. "Have her meet me at the main facility offices. I'll tell them she's coming."

"Okay... love you..." Carol said, biting her lip to keep in the sob that wanted to escape.

"Love you too." Daryl said and then had to hang up. He handed the paramedic back his phone and then spoke briefly to the guards who followed as he went to retrieve his helmet and small duffle over by the fence. Abe shadowed him as he headed out of the pens, refusing to leave his side, but the guards said something to him and looking frustrated and angry, he instead headed for the stands.

"He'll be fine." Merle said reassuringly, putting his hand on Carol's shoulder and wishing they could just rewind to an hour ago, when the biggest problem he had was figuring out the best way to tell his brother their abusive asshole of a father was dead.

Abe took the stairs two at a time, looking worried, a bit less so when he passed Andrea heading out and was told she was going to Daryl. When he got to Carol he scooped her up into a big hug.

Over his shoulder she looked up at the leader board, which still glowed with Daryl's almost perfect score on top and at the bottom, the name of the rider and that of the bull that had killed him, _Heartbreaker_ , and felt a shiver pass through her _._

* * *

Just when you thought the angst was over it drags you back in! Cue evil author laugh...mwaa-ha-ha-ha!

Thanks for reading & love hearing from you!


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